All I Ever Needed
by deepwater1978
Summary: All I ever needed is here in my arms. Words are very unnecessary. They can only do harm.
1. Chapter 1

_MYSTIC FALLS 1994_

"Damon, we should let your mum rest."

The hospital room was dim, but the scant daylight leaking through the drawn blinds seemed painfully brilliant.

At the sight of her eldest son, Lillian Giuseppe's sore chest muscles contracted around her heart. "Damon, I'm sorry," she wheezed. "So sorry."

"Don't say sorry, Mum." Damon reached out to hold her hand. "You have to take your medicine now. Then you will feel better."

"I'm dying, Damon. Those little pills can't help me any longer," she whispered, causing fear to cut through the heart of the fourteen year old boy.

"You are in the hospital. The doctors will save you…" Damon cried out.

"Not this time, son. Not this time. I'm tired, Damon. I just need rest. You have to promise me that you will look after Stefan. He is your brother and you need to love him with all your heart."

"I know, Mum. I promise you, I will…" Damon trailed off, reaching deep inside for the courage to keep him from crying.

"Boys don't cry." Lillian squeezed his hand. "Boys conquer the world, remember?"

"Yes, Mum. I promise I won't cry."

Giuseppe Salvatore lowered himself into the chair beside her bed. He barely resembled the man he had been the day before. Always tall, with a commanding presence, he was now stooped. Lines seemed to have been carved into his face overnight.

His grey eyes, characteristically intense, were bloodshot. Not only did they look bereaved, there was no life behind them. They reflected no light, as though he were dead too.

He hated to see her in so much pain, knowing there was nothing he could do. Lillian was the love of his life. Her smile had been so sweet. Her eyes had sparkled with exuberance over life in general. To anyone who had seen Giuseppe and Lillian together, it was instantly apparent that they had shared a special love. Lillian had adored him, and he had cherished Lillian. But now she was dying. And there was nothing he could do.

"I'm going to sleep now, Damon. If I don't wake up this time, you will look after Stefan and Dad for me, okay? I know you are a good boy. My good boy forever."

His mother's voice faded as she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep. Fifteen minutes later her breathing stopped.

Giuseppe and his two sons sat by her bed for another hour before he finally stood up.

"Damon, Stefan, let's go home."

When he walked out of the room, one lone tear slipped from his grey eyes. He didn't turn back around and look at her lifeless body - there was no reason to. The love of his life was gone. Forever.

x x x

The sun refused to shine on the day of Lillian's Salvatore funeral. It, too, seemed to be mourning the lovely, honest, hardworking woman who had died from breast cancer. For two days, Damon had seen many people came to pay tribute to his mother. There were wealthy visitors, their affluence evidenced by their clothes and their conveyances.

The hearse came to a halt at the driveway of the Salvatore house, glistening blackly. The driver wore a cutaway coat and top hat making him looked like someone from the circus.

Giuseppe was escorted down the front walk by his brother, Zach Salvatore. Damon and Stefan followed behind them. Giuseppe appeared to be withdrawn, oblivious to the sympathetic friends who watched him with pity as he walked to the covered carriage which waited behind the hearse.

The coffin was ceremoniously lifted into the hearse. Damon thought Lillian would have scoffed at all this pomp and circum stance. He was sure she was somewhere watching all of them, her eyes twinkling in amusement. He offered a prayer for her soul as the hearse led the procession away from the house.

"I promise I will take good care of Dad and Stefan," he whispered. "I promise you, Mum."

Later that night, Giuseppe seated on his seven-year-old son Stefan's bed. "Go to sleep, Stefan. It's late."

"When is Mum coming home?" Stefan asked the third time. "I miss her bedtime story."

"Dad will tell you a story."

"Is Mum still in the hospital?" Stefan asked. "Is she still sick?"

"Stefan…" he began; then he hesitated, and took his hand in his. After a moment, he began again. "I know how strange it must have seemed to you that Mum will never come home again." His voice cracked but he roughly cleared his throat. "Mum is not coming back anymore."

"Mum doesn't want us anymore, does she?" Stefan asked anxiously. "Why did she leave us?"

"Mum will never leave us."

Giuseppe turned around and found Damon standing at the doorway.

"Are you sure Mum will never leave us?" Stefan asked with concern. "When is she coming home?"

"Mum has gone to a special place," Damon said as he walked toward his bed. "Very far away."

"Can we go and find her?" Stefan asked.

Giuseppe lowered his forehead into one of his hands and massaged his temples with his thumb and middle finger. At forty-three, Giuseppe was a tall, broad-shouldered businessman with prematurely grey hair who normally exuded self-assurance, but not tonight. Tonight, he looked distinctly uneasy, and Damon knew why. Although he was only fourteen, he wasn't silly to know that Giuseppe didn't know how to explain to young Stefan about the death of his mother.

"Although Mum is far away, she is still watching all of us." Damon reached out and gently patted Stefan's head. "If you don't behave, Mum will be sad. You don't want that, do you?"

Stefan shook his head. "I want Mum to be happy. I'm a good boy."

"Then you should go to sleep now," Damon said, smiling at his younger brother.

Stefan nodded. "Okay," he said.

"That's my boy." Giuseppe leaned over and kissed the top of his head. "Good night, son. Sweet dream."

He turned out the light and closed the door when he left. Damon followed behind him. They walked down the long hallway towards the door of Damon's room.

"It's late. You should go to bed as well," Giuseppe said.

"Good night, Dad," Damon said as he walked inside his room.

"Good night."

Giuseppe turned and started to leave, but Damon's hesitant voice stopped him. "Dad. Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He looked sad then and added. "Maybe someday I will be okay."

But that day never arrived.

Giuseppe started drinking since that day Lillian died. He was always drunk. Damon felt that his father was running away from his grief over Lillian instead of facing it and trying to deal with it.

Giuseppe had also left the foundering family business in the hands of his younger brother because he seemed to have lost interest in everything. Damon didn't understand. Was getting drunk the only to ward off his loneliness and despair brought on by Lillian's death? Was he punishing himself for her death by sinking as low as he could go?

Although Giuseppe was never abusive, Stefan was mortified to see his father drunk every day and night. Not to mention scared. Damon didn't know how to handle the situation. How he wished his mother was still around. But Damon never forgot the promise he made to his mother. He would take care of his father and Stefan, no matter how hard life would be.

Damon got Giuseppe through the door of his bedroom. He was shaking now. His heart was pounding and his breathing was shallow. He could barely contain his rage and frustration. But he knew that losing his temper would do no good. "You have got to stop the drinking, Dad. You are killing yourself."

"It's my own business." Giuseppe dropped down onto the bed and turned his head toward the wall. "If I want to kill myself, I will."

"Please, don't talk like that."

"Go away."

"I think you should see the doctor."

"What do you know about any of this? Just leave me alone."

The helplessness threatened to swamp him in a sea of despair. There was no point talking to him anymore tonight.

He went out into the hall and quietly closed the bedroom door.

Stefan was standing outside the room, crying. He had wanted to cry. But he knew he couldn't allow himself to give in to the tears.

"Is Dad going to leave us as well?" Stefan asked.

"No, Dad isn't going to leave us."

"Damon, I miss Mum."

Damon hugged his brother close and laid his cheek on Stefan's blond hair. "I miss her too."

"I'm glad you are here, Damon."

"I'm glad you are here too, brother. No matter what happens," Damon said, "you and me, we stick together."

"Okay," Stefan said.

x x x

 _MYSTIC FALLS 1995_

Zach Salvatore stood at the fireplace in the living room of the Salvatore mansion, his aristocratic features set into an icy mask as he watched the butler pass a tray of drinks to Damon and Stefan who had just returned from their schools. Like most small communities, Mystic Falls had a well-established social hierarchy, and the Salvatore family was as firmly ensconced at the pinnacle of that social structure because the Salvatore family was one of the founder families of Mystic Falls in the 1800s. Situated precisely in the centre of Mystic Falls was a sprawling cluster of red brick buildings that comprised Salvatore Industries, which was responsible, either directly or indirectly, for the economic prosperity of most of Salvatore's families.

Today, however, Zach Salvatore's mind was not on the view from the veranda or the lofty social standing he had possessed since birth; it was on the staggering blow he was about to deliver to his loathsome brother, Giuseppe. Their father, Joseph Salvatore was too lenient with Giuseppe when he was growing up. Giuseppe was the eldest son and he always got the best of everything. Joseph wanted Giuseppe to have everything. That was a serious error on Joseph's part, Zach thought. Joseph's leniency weakened Giuseppe sense of duty and responsibility. It made him vulnerable.

His children, Damon and Stefan were just alike, Zach thought contemptuously as he studied the pair. They were spoiled, spineless, and irresponsible; they spent too much, and played too much; they were overindulged brats who knew nothing of self-discipline. But all that was about to stop.

In a few minutes, however, everything would change, Zach thought. His eyes went straight to Giuseppe. Giuseppe's mouth pinched in a disapproving line, sat primly on the sofa.

"I think we have had enough dramatics," Giuseppe said. "Tell us what's going on here. Otherwise I will go back to my room."

"To drink more?" Zach sneered at him.

Giuseppe frowned. "That's none of your business."

"You are right. It's none of my business." Zach did not take his eyes off Giuseppe. "You are probably wondering why I have called this little family meeting today."

Damon watched him in noncommittal silence from his position at the sofa, but Stefan intercepted a look of impatient boredom between Giuseppe and Damon.

"Don't play games, Zach," Giuseppe demanded.

"I can see you are impatient," he said, "so I will go directly to the point. I'm sure it has not occurred to you to wonder about anything as mundane as your financial status, however, the fact is that you, my brother was too busy with your drinking after your wife died that you have neglected the family business. As a result, I am now in complete control of the business. In case you are wondering what that means, I shall hasten to explain it to you." Smiling with satisfaction, he said, "You are no longer the President of Salvatore Industries. Period."

Giuseppe appeared more confused than outraged. "What the devil are you talking about?"

"I have been appointed by the board of directors to be the new president. I have a duty to this family. And I will make the business grow."

"This is ridiculous," Giuseppe said furiously. "You can't be serious about all this!"

"You went absolutely crazy after Lillian died," Zach said fiercely. "The board of directors have been very disappointed with you, Giuseppe. I did what I had to do. I did it for the sake of the family."

"You can't do this to me!" Giuseppe exploded. "Father would never have let you!"

"Father made a mistake of trusting you. You are weak. You can't make the family business grow. But I can. He didn't realise I'm a much better candidate."

"You can't do this to me!" Giuseppe repeated furiously. "I'm your brother!"

"I have all your shares, brother. I can do whatever I want," Zach informed him in a steely voice. "You are no longer being employed by the Salvatore Industries."

"You are lying," Giuseppe hissed. "How did you get hold of my shares?"

"You obviously didn't read the document properly when you signed it the other day," Zach chuckled. "You have agreed to sell all your shares of Salvatore Industries to me."

"Goddamn it," Giuseppe roared. "It was a trap. You set a trap for me."

"You are lucky this mansion still belongs to you. If you manage to pay off the mortgage." Glancing at the children, Zach added. "I suggest both of you start looking for part-time jobs to support the family. Your daddy still has to pay off the mortgage."

Damon stood up. He looked up at Zach with such cold contempt that Zach felt a chill down his spine. But what interested Zach the most about Damon's expression was the emotion he glimpsed in his eyes before he opened his mouth. Was it anguish he had seen there? Or was it fury? Or fear? He hoped, very devoutly, that it was all those things.

"Get out of here," Damon said coldly. "Now."

"You sound just like your father," Zach said. "Weak and useless."

"I'm not like my father. I'm not weak or useless." Damon tightened his fists at his side. "Get out of here now."

"What can you do to me, Damon?" Zach challenged. "You are only a boy."

With that, Zach strode towards the front door and left the mansion.

Giuseppe crumbled to the floor; his face was pale as if he had seen a ghost.

"I will get everything back one day," Damon whispered.

It was Zach's fault – all of it. Zach had ruined his father. Some people were just greedy, out to get their hands on everything. Well, Zach would pay. Zach Salvatore would pay for it.

He'd seek revenge on those who'd hurt his father, those who were supposed to be his family. He didn't care how long it took…


	2. Chapter 2

_MYSTIC FALLS 1997_

Damon rushed in the door of the school hall. He hadn't even had time to run home and change. It was prize giving day today and Stefan had won a prize for his science project. The prize giving day started twenty minutes ago and he was praying he hadn't missed it.

He ran through the doors and found where the kids were sitting. He walked over to him and wanted to give him a hug but knew that would embarrass him in front of all his friends.

"I didn't miss you receiving the prize, did I?" he asked with concern.

"No Damon, I'm up next," Stefan said with a shrug. He was trying to act like it didn't matter but Damon could see the relief in his brother's eyes he was there.

"Good. I'm sorry I got here so late because Mrs Conor finished her class late," he explained. "She couldn't stop talking."

"It is okay, Damon," Stefan told him in his far too understanding voice. He was such a good boy. Damon couldn't imagine his life without his brother in it. He walked over to the chairs and sat down. When it was his brother's turn to receive the prize, Damon cheered him on and clapped the loudest in the crowd.

Stefan ran up to him and gave him a rare public hug afterwards, forgetting for a minute he was too old to give his brother public affection.

"Thanks Damon, I want to show my prize to my friends," he said, as he practically danced back over towards his friends. Damon would love to go back to being a kid, carefree and excited so easily. But he was no longer a kid.

Nothing had been the same since Lillian died. Giuseppe had changed. So did Damon.

Giuseppe had cut down his drinking after he realised he had lost the family business. He had found a regular job at the supermarket in order to pay for the mortgage. But it wasn't enough. Before Lillian died, Giuseppe got her the best doctors and she stayed in the best hospitals. He had spent a huge amount of money to keep paying the medical bills until she died. The butler, the chauffeur and the nanny had left because Giuseppe couldn't afford to employ them anymore. He had to sell off the expensive cars and jewelleries in order to cover for the expenses.

Damon knew he had to do something, anything, to support the family. He had never forgotten the promise he made to his mother. He had to take care of his father and Stefan. He knew he had to shoulder enormous responsibilities. He would take back whatever was taken away from him.

He studied hard at school and he had good grades but good grades had never been his goal. It was knowledge that he pursued, the knowledge he needed to achieve and enjoy his goals. Not only did he work hard at school, Damon had even taken up jobs to help his father financially.

It was difficult to get a job at the age of fifteen but he had managed to persuade someone to hire him at one of the ranches outside of town on the weekends. During the week days, he delivered newspaper to the neighbourhood first thing in the morning before school and he would help out at the gas station after school.

It was tough. But Damon didn't complain. Life had dealt him several major blows, but he had survived them and, in doing so, he found in himself an inner strength he didn't know he possessed.

No pain, no gain.

No guts, no glory.

Giuseppe was not the same man Damon had known anymore since Lillian died. He was like a walking dead man. He had shut himself down permanently from the world. He wasn't invisible. He just wasn't there. He never attended a single school event. He never met a friend of his sons. Never watched his sons play a sport. Damon had to sign his own report cards as well as Stefan's. His father went to work every day, came home, ate supper, turned on the TV for a couple of hours, then went to his bedroom and shut the door. That's all.

Damon didn't blame his father. When you lost somebody; every candle, every prayer was not going to make up for the fact that the only thing that you had left was a hole in your life where that somebody that you cared about used to be.

The prize giving day ended shortly and he and Stefan headed to the car. "What would you like for dinner tonight?" he asked Stefan.

"Yes! Can we have pizza?" Stefan pleaded with her. The kid could eat pizza for breakfast, lunch and dinner if Damon let him.

"That sounds perfect," he replied. "I will get us a pizza after I finish work at the gas station."

They got inside the car and drove past the library and the small park next to it, then turned the corner into the town's main shopping area. Then Damon pulled into Mystic Falls Gas and Go.

"You stay here and read your books," he said to Stefan as he slipped out of the old Mazda. "I will get you a bottle of water in a minute."

"Okay," Stefan answered as he watched his brother changed into a uniform and hoisted a rubber-bladed scraper out of a bucket of dirty water and went to work on the front window of a truck at the first pump.

A classic finned Cadillac pulled into the neighbouring aisle. A beautiful woman in a green dress got out. "Damon."

He recognised the face. It was Miranda Gilbert, wife of Grayson Gilbert. The Gilbert family was also one of the founder families of Mystic Falls. Grayson Gilbert was a well-respected paediatrician at the Mystic Falls Hospital.

He nodded at Miranda. "Mrs Gilbert. What can I do for you?"

"I just need gas." She glanced at the old Mazda parked at the end corner. "I saw Stefan at the prize giving day. He is a smart boy, isn't he? You must be proud of him."

Damon grinned. "Yes, he is."

"So, you bring Stefan here every day after school?"

"I'm finished here," Damon said quickly. The entire Mystic Falls knew about what happened to his father. He didn't want sympathy. "You can pay at the counter."

"Dear God, Damon," Miranda said wearily. "It must be hard on you in the last two years."

Damon's jaw tightened. "I know how to take care of myself. Mrs Gilbert. Please pay at the counter."

Miranda hesitated. "Why don't I watch Stefan for you?"

Damon blinked. "What?"

"I said I can watch Stefan for you. I need to pick up Elena and Jeremy from school anyhow. Stefan can follow us home and once you have finished work here, you can pick him up from our house. How does that sound?"

Damon bit his bottom lip and looked a bit troubled. He seemed to mull the question over for several seconds before answering. "I can't afford to pay for someone to watch over Stefan."

Miranda smiled. "You don't have to pay me. I'm sure Elena and Jeremy would love to have Stefan at our house."

"You needn't go to that kind of trouble, Mrs Gilbert. I can look after Stefan even when I'm working."

Miranda gave him a reassuring grin. "It's no bother, Damon. I will take Stefan with me and you come and get him after work."

The arrangement worked well. Damon didn't have to worry about being late for picking up Stefan from school. He could work for a few more hours at the gas station on some days when his class finished early.

Damon was very grateful for what Miranda did. The Gilbert family was lovely, he thought. Grayson Gilbert was energetic, smart and easy-going. After he married Miranda, she had promptly given him a daughter and a son within two years. Grayson positively doted on his wife and his children. Jeremy was a year younger than Stefan but the boys clicked and soon they became good friends. Elena was in the same class as Stefan. Damon had rarely seen Elena, but the petite brunette had always struck him as a refreshing exception. Everything about her was appealing and wholesome, and yet he sensed there were depths to her that some other girls of the same age lacked. She had hair the colour of dark chocolate and a pair of startlingly large, long-lashed eyes—clear, luminous, mesmerizing almond-coloured eyes that regarded him, and the rest of her world, with genuine interest. They were expressive eyes, bright with lively intelligence, glowing with wit, and yet filled with a sweetness that never failed to make Damon feel like smiling at her.

When Damon finally closed his textbook, and shoved his notes aside, his shoulders ached from being hunched over the kitchen, and his brain felt saturated. There was no point in more studying; he was prepared enough to ace the final exam. Absently, he rubbed his aching shoulders; then he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, resting them.

"What are you reading?"

He opened his eyes and found Elena standing near the kitchen table. He had agreed to watch Elena and Jeremy for Grayson and Miranda on a Saturday night so that they could attend the annual dinner at the Mystic Falls Hospital. He had brought Stefan along as Giuseppe took up a night shift at the supermarket and would only be back after eleven.

Miranda had ordered a large pizza for the children and they watched a movie together after dinner before going to bed. Stefan had fallen asleep on the sofa and Damon had spent the last hour studying inside the kitchen after clearing up the dishes. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost ten o'clock. The Gilberts said they would return by ten.

"What are you reading?" Elena asked again.

"I'm studying for my final exams."

"Mum said you are planning to go to college."

Damon smiled. "I can start college in a few months' time if I get good grades for this final exam."

"My grades are good too," Elena said proudly. Her eyes were dancing with excitement. "I have A for my maths and science."

"You are a smart girl, aren't you, sweetie?"

Elena's face grew concerned. "My name is Elena, not sweetie."

He laughed softly. "I know your name is Elena. I call you sweetie because you are a sweet girl."

Her face lit up. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Nobody ever call me sweetie. Mum and dad call me sweetheart sometimes."

Damon chuckled. "I will call you sweetie from now if you like it."

She surprised him again by shaking her head. "My friends will laugh at me if you call me sweetie."

"Right." He leaned closer and studied her curiously. "But I thought you like being called sweetie."

A mischievous gleam appeared in her eyes. "I like it but you can only call me sweetie when nobody is around. Promise?"

Enchanted with her face, her voice, and her sweetness, Damon drew an X over his heart with his index finger. "Promise."

Headlights swung into the drive, and an engine shifted into idle.

"I think your mum and dad are back," Damon said as he lovingly, brushed a strand of hair off Elena's cheek. "You better get back to your room before they find out you are still awake at this hour, sweetie."

Elena frowned. "Aw, Damon. Can't I stay up just a little more time?"

"Time for bed, sweetie." He stood up and walked out of the kitchen. Elena followed him.

The keys jingled in the lock.

"Better run now," he whispered in a low voice. "Before you are being caught."

Elena giggled and ran up the stairs to her bedroom.

x x x

 _MYSTIC FALLS 2000_

The bells ringing in Damon's brain were overwhelmed by the increasing thunder of his heart as he buried himself full-length into Judy's eager, demanding body, driving into her as she rode him hard, her hips forcing him deeper. She was wild…close to the edge…Bells began to clang rhythmically. Not the melodious bells from church steeples in the centre of town, or the echoing bells of the fire station across the street.

"Hey, Salvatore you in there?" Bells.

He was definitely 'in there.' In her, close to exploding. Bells.

"Dammit, Salvatore…..." Bells. "Where the hell"—bells —"are you?" It seeped through his mind then: Outside by the gas pumps, someone was jumping on the hose that rang inside the service station and shouting his name.

Judy froze, a low scream in her throat. "Oh my God, there's someone out there." Too late. He couldn't stop, wouldn't stop. He hadn't wanted to start this here, but she'd insisted and enticed, and now his body wouldn't heed the threat of intrusion. Clasping her rounded buttocks, he yanked her down, drove up into her, and finished. A pulse beat of rest, and then he rolled to a sitting position, gently but hurriedly pushing her off. Judy was already tugging her skirt down and adjusting her sweater. He shoved her behind a stack of rethreads and stood up just as the door opened and Owen Keenan strode into the gas station service bay, scowling and suspicious. "What the hell is going on in here, Damon? I been hollering the place down."

"I was taking a break," Damon replied, combing his hands through his dark hair which was ruffled from Judy's eager caresses. "What do you want?"

"Your pa's drunk down at the Grill. Sheriff is on her way. If you don't want him spending the night in the drunk tank, you better get to him first."

When Owen left, Damon picked up Judy's coat from the floor, where they'd lain on it, then dusted it off and held it while she put her arms into the sleeves. She'd had a friend drop her off there, he knew, which meant she'd need a ride. "Where did you leave your car?" he asked.

She told him and he nodded. "I will take you to your car before I go rescue my father."

Christmas lights were strung across the intersections as Damon drove into town centre, their colours blurring in the falling snow. From a loudspeaker provided by the Town Hall, 'Silent Night' blared out its tune colliding with the notes of 'Jingle Bells' pouring out of a plastic sleigh on the roof of Mystic's Hardware.

The softly falling snow and Christmas lights did wonders for Mystic Falls, making it looked like an arctic wonderland.

Damon pulled his pickup truck into a dark corner of the parking lot beside Mystic Falls Dry Goods Store, where she'd left her car, and Judy slid next to him. "Don't forget," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Pick me up tonight at seven at the grocery store and we will finish what we started an hour ago. And Damon, stay out of sight. Daddy saw your truck outside the last time and started asking questions."

Damon looked at her, suddenly disgusted with his sexual attraction to her. She was beautiful, rich, spoiled, and selfish, and he knew it. He had let himself be used as her stud, let himself be conned into clandestine meetings and furtive groping, let himself descend to lurking around at grocery store instead of going up to the front door, as her other—acceptable—dates undoubtedly did.

Other than sexual attraction, they had absolutely nothing in common apart that they were both at Whitmore college. Judy Frederickson's daddy was Richmond's richest citizen, and she was in her freshman year at Whitmore college. Damon worked in the kitchen at the Mystic Grill after school every night and moonlighted as a mechanic on weekends. And his father was still getting drunk every now and then.

Leaning across her lap, he opened the truck door, his voice hard and implacable. "Either I pick you up at your front door tonight, or you had better make other plans for the evening."

"But what will I tell Daddy when he sees your pickup in the drive?"

Coldly impervious to her stricken look, Damon said sardonically, "Tell him my limousine is in the shop for repairs."

x x x

Damon concentrated on reassembling the bathroom faucet. Out of long habit he had arranged the various small components one by one on the counter in the order in which he had removed them. The theory was that all he had to do now to complete the leak repair was put the faucet back together in reverse order. It was a good theory and sometimes it actually worked. But plumbing was an art, not a science. It did not always respond to logic.

"Thanks for doing this, Damon," Miranda said from the doorway behind him. "Grayson is still in a conference in Chicago and the plumber said he can't come until end of the week. Christmas is just around the corner…"

"It is no bother, Mrs Gilbert," he said. He picked up a screwdriver. "I have to thank you for watching Stefan in the past three years."

Miranda smiled. "Stefan is a lovely boy. We like him. How's college?"

"So far so good." He jiggled the lever delicately a bit to reseat it.

She folded her arms and propped one shoulder against the door jamb. "It must be hard to travel from here to Whitmore daily. Not to mention how tired you are. You work at the Grill every night and then at the garage on the weekend. Jesus, how did you manage your time?"

"Whitmore is only an hour drive from here." He went down on one knee, reached into the open cabinet and turned on the valves that controlled the water supply. "I can manage it."

Miranda shook her head. She saw the determination in that square jaw, the intelligence and hard-bitten experience in those blue eyes. His life had not given him any of the advantages that it offered men of her own class, but she sensed instinctively that Damon Salvatore had a rare kind of strength coupled with an indomitable will to succeed.

"I have to check on the lasagne. You want something to drink? Water? Juice?"

"Water will be fine. Thanks, Mrs Gilbert."

He got back to his feet and turned on the faucet. There was some sputtering and coughing, but the old pipes were sturdy. After a moment water flowed steadily.

"Have you finished? Is it working now?"

He looked behind his back and saw Elena standing at the doorway.

"Not sure. Have to check." He shut off the water.

They both gazed steadily at the faucet for a time. No drips.

"My," Elena said in tones of near-reverent awe. "You are good. You are extraordinary."

"What can I say? It's a gift."

She grinned at him in the mirror. "I believe it."

He looked at her reflected image. She was going to be a very special woman someday…and also a very beautiful one, he decided.

In the past few years, he had seen and heard enough to form some strong impressions about the teenage daughters of Mystic Falls' Founder Families. Among those observations was that the thirteen and fourteen-year-old girls were all crazy about boys. In addition to their obsession with boys, they were totally obsessed with their looks, their clothes, and their status with their peers. Their personalities ranged from giddy to sulky, and although they could be charming, they were also demanding, conceited, and catty.

Some of the girls were already raiding their parents' liquor cabinets, most of them wore too much makeup, and all of them tried to flirt with him when they saw him at the Grill. Last year, their efforts had been amusingly clumsy and easy to deflect, but they were becoming bolder as they grew older. As a result, he was beginning to feel like a sex object for a bunch of single-minded, precocious adolescent girls.

That wouldn't have been nearly as exasperating if they had restricted themselves to blushing and giggling, but lately they had progressed to come-hither looks and languishing stares. A month ago, one of the girls of the Fell family had taken the lead in the "chase" by boldly asking Damon's opinion on French kissing. Another girl from the Lockwood family informed Damon that she thought he had "a great butt."

Elena Gilbert was different.

She was very bright and very poised. She was soft-spoken and amazingly witty, but her wit was so subtle and her voice so softly musical that her sense of humour either caught him off-guard or almost slid by his notice.

She spoke to him with a friendly interest that was genuine and yet devoid of any hint of flirtatiousness. In the years he had worked at the Grill, nearly all of the teenage girls at the town had made some sort of romantic overture toward Damon, all of which he wisely and carefully dodged.

Their tactics were often blatant, usually transparent, and frequently amusing. What he found most irritating was that some of the wealthy, young femme fatales seemed to think they could attempt to seduce an "inferior being" without the slightest risk of repercussions. What they needed, in his opinion, was a sound spanking, though it was too late now for such parental discipline, even if their parents had been so inclined.

In this, as in everything else, Elena Gilbert was a delightful exception. She was remarkable.

She had hair the colour of dark chocolate and the texture of heavy silk, and soft, dewy skin. Every time he had seen her during this past three year, she seemed to have grown prettier, her eyes brighter. She was no more than five feet tall, barely reaching his shoulder. But her brow creased with worry.

"Is something wrong, sweetie?"

She showed him a picture. It was a picture of her and a few other boys and girls, dressed as elves, participating in the charity Christmas pageant at Mystic Falls Hospital.

"What's wrong with the picture?" he asked curiously.

Impartially, Elena compared herself to the other girls in the elf costumes, wondering how they could manage to look leggy and curvy while she looked…"Dumpy!" she pronounced with a pained grimace. "I look like a troll, not an elf!"

"That's not true, sweetie."

"Look at me, I'm fat," she said, pointing an accusing finger at her reflection. "I have no waistline!"

"You have some baby fat there, that's all."

"I want to do something with my hair. It's awful."

"It's not awful!" Damon argued, looking at Elena's shoulder-length dark brown hair and then her almond-coloured eyes. "You have striking eyes and very nice hair. Nice and thick and…"

"Too thick."

"It is not too thick."

She bit her lower lip. "Don't you think I need to change?"

"Don't change," he said with a smile on his face. "Stay just the way you are."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?"

"For making me happy again. I was upset when I saw the picture. Everyone will be laughing at me back at school."

"No, they won't. Everyone loves you, sweetie."

She hesitated. "I hope so." She paused. "Caroline said a girl has to look good to get a boyfriend."

"It is not true, sweetie," he said gently. "Someday, some lucky guy will come along and realize what a rare treasure you are."

Having him cheerfully predict that another man would win her heart was enough to douse Elena's happy glow. "Really?"

"Yes."

"What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?"

Damon thought about Judy and then nodded hesitantly.

"What's she like?" Elena asked.

He bent down and picked up his tools, and Elena had the feeling that he had drifted very far away.

"Her name is Judy."

There was a long pause.

"And?" Elena prompted. "Is she blond or dark, short or tall, blue eyes or brown?"

"She's blond and tall."

"I wish I was," she confessed with a wistful look.

"You want to be blond?"

"No," she said, and Damon laughed. "I want to be tall."

"You are only thirteen, sweetie," Damon said lightly. "You will grow taller, trust me."

"What colour are her eyes?"

"Blue."

"Just like your eyes." Elena was fascinated. "Have you been going together very long?"

Damon belatedly realized he was talking to a thirteen-year-old about his relationship, which was totally unacceptable, and the conversation was entirely too personal. "We met in college," he said briefly as he straightened and turned to leave.

"Does she live in Mystic Falls?" Elena pressed, sensing the conversation was over but rather hoping it wasn't.

"No. She is from Richmond."

"What is she studying?"

"Law and management."

"And what about you? Have you already decided what you are going to be when you grow up?"

He chuckled at her impertinent question. "Yep," he said.

"What?"

"Rich," he replied with absolute conviction.

Elena knew that he was a finance major at college, but the details of his objective were unknown.

"Do you have some sort of plan in mind?"

"I have some ideas." He looked at her. "What about you, sweetie? What are you going to be when you grow up?"

"I want to be a doctor," Elena said. She looked determined. "Just like Daddy."

"I'm sure you will, sweetie."

x x x

"I can't wait for the Christmas Festival!" Caroline said, sitting beside Elena on the bed. She paused to take a swallow from her can of Coke before she continued, "I can wear my new coat. It will be fun."

With Caroline's vivid colouring and mass of blond hair, she was Elena's complete opposite; moreover, there was an indefinable air of daring confidence about Elena that gave her what Seventeen magazine called panache.

"Hey, be careful!" Elena said. "You are going to make a mess on my bed."

"Elena," Caroline teased in a dire voice as she surveyed the relentless orderliness of the pretty room, "didn't anyone ever tell you it's unhealthy to keep a bedroom this neat?"

Elena's bedroom was furnished in French antiques, including a graceful painted armoire and a canopy bed upholstered in yellow chintz. Against the opposite wall was a French writing desk, where she did her homework. There was not a paper or pen out of place.

Instead of making some sort of deserved rejoinder about Caroline's sloppy habits, Elena took a dainty bite of her pretzel and thoughtfully looked around the room. "It probably is," she agreed. "It could be because I have an artistic eye that appreciates symmetry and order. Or it could be because I'm obsessive-compulsive…"

Caroline wrinkled her brow. "What's 'obsessive-compulsive' mean?"

"Nuts." Elena paused in her explanation to rub her fingertips free of pretzel dust. "Crazy."

"You are not wacko!" Caroline stated loyally and emphatically, taking a bite of her own pretzel. It snapped in two, half of it landing in Elena's lap. Elena's pretzels never broke when she bit into them.

Elena picked it up and handed it back to her. "It could be that I have a neurotic need to keep everything tidy as a way of controlling my surroundings, which was brought about because my father is a doctor who is very particular about organisation and management."

"And you still want to become a doctor when you grow up?"

"Yes."

"Your life will be so boring!"

"Being a doctor will not be boring," she said very seriously. "You take care of people who are sick and you make them well again. I think it is a fantastic job."

Caroline considered that for a long moment; then her eyes began to sparkle with mischief. "I think the best job is to wait for a prince charming to sweep you off your feet."

Elena frowned. "How come your brain is always thinking about boys?"

"Because I like boys and the boys like me."

Elena giggled and rolled her eyes; then she said very seriously, "A girl doesn't always have to look good to have a boyfriend, you know. Damon said someday, some lucky guy will come along and realize what a rare treasure I'm."

"Damon?"

"Damon Salvatore. You know – Stefan's brother. Damon is really smart. He is doing a dual major for his undergraduate degree—economics and finance. According to Stefan, brains run in their family."

Caroline looked at her, immobilized by the unmistakable undercurrent of excitement she had just witnessed in Elena. Not once had Elena ever said anything to indicate she had secret feelings for Stefan's brother, but then Elena didn't blurt out every thought that came into her mind the way Caroline did.

Caroline giggled, studying Elena with curiosity. "You like him."

"Yeah. I like Damon. I like Stefan too."

"That's not what I mean. You like Damon. You want him to be your boyfriend."

Elena shot her an odd look. "No, he is my friend, not my boyfriend."

"I thought you were too young for him," Caroline joked.

"Damon has a girlfriend," Elena answered.

Caroline gaped at her. "Did he? Is she from Mystic Falls?"

"No, she lives in Richmond. Apparently, she is pretty and tall. She is smart too. She is a college student."

"Are you jealous of her?"

Elena was dumbstruck at Caroline's words. "Of course not! Damon said I will grow taller eventually. He said I have beautiful eyes and nice hair."

"You really like him, a lot."

"Yeah, I like him. Stefan is lucky to have a big brother like Damon."

"But he is too old for you," Caroline said. "He's an older man, so your age is a drawback."

"Damon is not old!" Elena protested. "And I repeat this again. Damon is my friend, not my boyfriend."

Caroline sent her a mocking look. "Your face turns pink when you lie."

"No!"

"Yes. When you lie…" The rest of Caroline's sentence was cut off by a fat pillow landed on her head.

"I can't believe you did that," Caroline said, studying Elena with fascination.

"Why not?"

"Because it makes me have to—retaliate!"

Caroline lunged so swiftly, and her aim was so good, that Elena didn't have time to duck. Laughing, she dived for another one of the pillows, and so did Elena. Five minutes later, the two teenage girls, lie on their backs in the middle of the bedroom, shrieking with laughter.

Once the idea of Elena and Damon had taken root, Caroline couldn't seem to shake it loose. She tried to envision Damon and Elena as a twosome, but it was just too ludicrous.

Elena was sweet and pretty and popular, and she had her choice among the wealthy boys from backgrounds like her own—boys like Tyler Lockwood, who was the mayor's son or Matt Donovan, who was the captain of the football team.

Damon Salvatore – the eldest son of Giuseppe Salvatore. The Salvatore family was one of the Founder Families but everyone in Mystic Falls knew what had happened to Giuseppe. The family was broke because Giuseppe had a drinking problem since his wife died. Damon had to take up part-time jobs since he was fifth teen to help out the family.

In one sense, Caroline had known Damon all of her life because she was in the same class with his younger brother, Stefan. Growing up she had encountered him from time to time in Mystic Falls —but Damon and Stefan were different.

Stefan was polite and gentle. At the age of thirteen, with his blond, short hair, smiling green eyes, and high cheek bones, Stefan Salvatore was considered handsome. He was a straight-A student and an avid reader. But he was Giuseppe's son. Everyone knew that having a father with drinking problem was trouble. Nice girls might indulge a few fantasies, but they didn't date Stefan.

Damon was Stefan's opposite in every way. His hair was dark brown almost black which hung just over his ears and he had a light complexion with olive undertones. There was no doubt he was good looking with his high cheeks bones and a solid jaw line. He did have a great physique but Caroline had never seen him in anything except faded jeans and a T-shirt or sweatshirt, and she couldn't even imagine him dancing with Elena in a tuxedo.

She had heard the saying that "opposites attract," but in this case the differences were too extreme. It was almost impossible to believe that practical, sweet, fastidious Elena would actually be attracted to all that raw sex appeal and macho ruggedness. He wasn't even friendly to anyone! His complete lack of social standing, his lack of money, and his lowly job at the Grill and the garage made him off-limits to most girls.

It seemed impossible to believe Elena would go and get a crush on a guy like Damon, who didn't seem to care what he wore or where he worked. Not that there was anything wrong with how he dressed or where he worked; it was just that it seemed so wrong for someone like Elena.


	3. Chapter 3

Damon emerged from his truck and was surprised to find Giuseppe's old Mazda parked at the driveway. It was only four o'clock in the afternoon. Giuseppe was supposed to be at work at this hour.

"Damn it." Damon cursed softly. "Don't tell me Dad is drunk again."

He rushed inside the mansion. "Dad?"

There was no immediate response.

"Dad? Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

The answering silence began to make him uneasy. "Dad?"

"Dad? Are you drinking again?"

He took one step into the living room and surveyed the living room with a quick, worried glance. The air was stale, he noted absently. It smelled of old wood smoke from the fireplace. The ashes on the hearth were cold.

A coffee cup stood on the s pine table in front of the couch. The ashtray near the cup contained several cigarette butts and small piles of ashes. Giuseppe did a lot of coffee and cigarettes when he was trying to avoid alcohol.

Damon went toward the hallway that led to the kitchen.

"Dad?"

Still no response.

Damon peeked into the kitchen and noted that it was empty. Maybe Dad was in his room, he thought.

He turned the corner and stopped at the sight of the crumpled form sprawled at the bottom of the stairs.

And then he saw the hand that was partially covered by a jacket sleeve. And a pair of boots.

"Dad. My God. Dad."

For an instant Damon was paralyzed with horror. A ghastly tightness gripped his chest, cutting off his breath. He managed to break free of the spell and move slowly to the staircase. Tears welled up in his eyes.

Giuseppe Salvatore was dead.

"Got rip-roaring drunk and fell down the stairs, poor man," Grayson said when he walked into the bedroom with his briefcase in hand and his suit coat over his arm. "I suppose it was inevitable. Giuseppe was the self-destructive type. Everyone knew it. Too bad Damon had to be the one who walked in and found him."

"That must be traumatic for both Damon and Stefan. The boys lost their mother six years ago, and now it's their father," Miranda took the briefcase and suit coat from her husband. "I hope he didn't suffer too long."

"The medics said Giuseppe broke his neck in the fall and probably died instantly." Grayson put his arm around her shoulder. "Don't dwell on it. There was nothing anyone could have done. Giuseppe should have stopped his drinking years ago but he didn't. He was a deeply troubled soul."

"You took the news better than I do," Miranda remarked.

"You are worried about the boys," Grayson replied. "How are they?"

"They are staying in the guestroom. I have asked them to stay with us for a few days. Are you okay with it?"

"No problem. They can stay with us as long as they want."

Miranda sighed. "Life is so unfair to them. Stefan is still a kid. He is only thirteen. And Damon…"

"Damon is strong and determined. I can see the strength in him. He will be the one Salvatore who can set the world on fire."

"Yes, dear, I know." There was a short silence. "But between you and me, Damon is the one I worried about the most."

That stopped Grayson cold. "Why?"

Miranda was quiet for a moment.

"Damon always seemed too self-contained, too controlled," she said eventually. "He never lost his temper, never got in trouble at school. Always got good grades. It just wasn't natural."

"You mean for a Salvatore?"

"No, I mean for a little boy. Any little boy."

"Oh."

"It was as if he always had his own private agenda."

"I think you're right," Grayson said. "Maybe he needed to prove something to himself. Maybe that is his goal."

"Maybe."

Hours later, too keyed up to sleep despite the exhaustion that made him feel jittery and off balance, Damon sat at the chair inside one of the guestrooms of the Gilbert house and watched her brother sleeping in the bed, safe and sound.

Stefan was so beautiful, with those little freckles dusting his nose and that blond hair. A world full of miracles wrapped up in a little bundle of energy with his grin and mischief in his eyes.

Damon smiled gently now as his younger brother rolled over his sleep, facing away from him. Even as his mouth twisted into a smile, he felt the rush of sadness build in his chest again, as it had done repeatedly in the hours since he found Giuseppe's dead body.

His father was dead. Giuseppe was dead.

He drew his knees up, hugging them to his chest as if needing to hold onto something to make the fresh, sharp pain bearable. Laying his forehead on his knees, he grieved openly for his father.

 _Dad! Dad! I saw you only last night. You can't be dead. Oh, God! If I had only been there, maybe I could have done something. Maybe you called out to me for help and I wasn't there. Damn! Damn! Damn!_

Tears of new grief and helpless frustration fell from his eyes.

"Damon?"

His head snapped up. Someone stood at the doorway watching him. It was Elena.

He wiped away his tears with the back of his hand and forced a smile. "What are you doing here, sweetie? Why aren't you in bed?"

Elena was shocked by the shadows under his eyes and the wobble in his smile. Damon must be exhausted, she thought.

"What about you? What were you doing awake at this hour, anyway?"

"I can't sleep."

"You are sad."

"It's hard to explain."

"Your father?" It was just a guess, but she knew she was right when his gaze flashed to hers. She had overheard his parents' conversation earlier in the evening about Giuseppe's death. "I'm sorry about your father, Damon."

He exhaled slowly. "Maybe if I had been there, I could have done something."

"You aren't a doctor. You couldn't do anything even you were there."

He looked at her. "You are too young to understand."

"I do," she said. "That's why I want to become a doctor. I want to save lives."

Damon muffled a stunned laugh, stroking her luxuriant hair. "You are going to save heaps of lives, huh?"

"Yep."

He lifted his finger and gently touched her cheek. "I'm sure you will be a great doctor one day, sweetie."

Her stomach growled. A grin lifted the corners of his mouth. "Are you hungry, sweetie?"

She nodded. "A little."

"Why don't we sneak downstairs to see whether there is anything to eat in the kitchen?"

Elena's eyes lit up with excitement. "Okay."

"But we have to be very quiet." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "You don't want to wake up anyone."

In less than five minutes, they were sitting at the table inside the kitchen. Elena was having a cookie while Damon made himself a cup of coffee.

"Your mum will probably kill me if she finds out you are having cookie at this hour," Damon joked.

"You are bad influence, Damon Salvatore," she teased, breaking off a small piece of cookie.

He shrugged. "Maybe I'm."

"No, you are not."

"You are a kid. The world isn't really that simple and straight forward, sweetie."

"I'm not a kid," she protested. "I'm thirteen years old. You aren't that old, either."

He chuckled and then he said very seriously, "Maybe you will understand when you grow up eventually."

"Caroline can't wait to grow up. She said being an adult is so much better than being a child. She said she can go shopping and buy whatever she wants when she grows up."

Damon propped both his elbows on the table. "Your friend Caroline is kind of…interesting."

"She is my best friend. We stick together all the time."

At that moment, Damon decided that Caroline was a very lucky girl to have a friend like Elena. Unaware of his silent compliments, Elena glanced at him. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Who's your best friend? Judy?"

"Oh."

He nodded with emphasis, but that was uninformative enough to spur Elena's curiosity even higher. "Is she your best friend?"

"I haven't seen her lately."

"Why?"

"I was busy." He leaned back in his chair. "Sometimes things just don't work out the way you want."

"Hmm." She finished off the remaining of the cookie. "You haven't answered my question."

"What?"

"Who's your best friend?"

He was silent for several moments, then looked at her. "I don't have a best friend."

She stared at him. "You are joking."

"No."

"Everyone has a best friend."

"Not me."

Elena watched him for a moment and felt a rush of sadness and sympathy. Damon was such a great person. How could he not have a best friend?

"You better go to bed. It's really late now," Damon said, already standing up and gathering the cup and plate.

"I will be your best friend, Damon," Elena said finally.

His eyes widened. "What?"

She smiled at him. "I said I'm your best friend." Her tone was solemn. "From this moment."

"You are my best friend?"

"Yes, I'm your best friend."

x x x

 _MYSTIC FALLS 2002_

"You know you don't have to do this." Miranda gestured to the stove. "Cook, I mean. You are a guest here, Damon."

"I don't mind, Mrs Grayson." Damon laid the steaks in the frying pan. The kitchen was immediately filled with their sharp pleasing aroma and cheerful spatter and hiss. "You and Mr Gilbert are kind enough to help me looking after Stefan all these years. Taking over the cooking duties is just my way of saying thank you. Besides, making beef burgers is not a big deal."

"You came here to fix my mowing machine but you ended up mowing my lawn and now you are fixing dinner for us."

"Mowing the lawn is supposed to be a man's job. I'm just stepping in since Mr Gilbert is away."

Damon had finished college two years after Giuseppe passed away. A few months ago, a drilling company in Venezuela had approached Damon and offered him a contract. But he had to stay in Mystic Falls and keeping working while Stefan was growing up. He continued working in the Grill at night but he had also taken up the job as a mechanics in the garage during the week days. He lived on a tight budget. The more money he could earn, the better it would be. He wanted Stefan to go to an expensive college and didn't want his brother to worry about the tuition fee. He had to wait until Stefan in college before leaving Mystic Falls. It was just as well, though, because it gave him a chance to get his master's degree in business administration while waiting around.

"I heard you have full scholarship for your master degree," Miranda said as she tossed together a salad. "Congratulations."

Elena walked into the kitchen before Damon could response.

"Mum, aunt Jenna is on the phone," Elena interrupted. "She wants to talk to you."

"Alright," Miranda said as she dried her hands with a towel. "Elena, why don't you give Damon a hand here?"

"Sure," Elena answered happily as she watched her mother left the kitchen.

Now she had Damon entirely to herself. Managing to see him as often as she could without having it seem contrived had been the second hardest thing she had ever done—second only to keeping her feelings for him a complete secret from him and everyone else.

Nearly all of Elena's friends had wild crushes on him. He was tall, wide-shouldered, and narrow-hipped. In snug, soft jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, every inch of his muscled body exuded power and raw sex appeal. Having a well-tone body and striking, intense blue eyes contrasting wonderfully against dark lashes and eyebrows, and a "bad boy" smile, made him infinitely more attractive.

He refused to talk about himself to them, which made him mysterious and all the more fascinating.

He was unattainable, which made him even more desirable.

He was immune to most of the girls' looks, their money, and their ploys. And that made him a challenge.

Most girls in town did everything to get his attention, from trying to flirt with him, to wearing their tightest pants and most revealing tops, to stopping by at the garage pretending their cars had broken down, to wanting him to take their orders when they were at the Grill.

One by one, Elena had watched Damon's reactions to each girl's attempt to flirt with him, and she soon realized that the more blatant the attempt was, the stronger his retaliation. Milder transgressors were treated like children, subjected to his open amusement and spoken to in a condescendingly superior way that made the transgressor squirm. More daring transgressors received a much more unbearable punishment: they were subjected to weeks of cool and distant behaviour. Unfortunately, both of his tactics made it necessary to find ways to get back into his good graces, which made him seem even more powerful and desirable.

Damon glanced behind his shoulder. "Hey, sweetie."

"Hey back. Can I do anything to help?"

"Why don't you help to set the table?"

"Sure." She moved over to get the plates from the cupboard. "I can't really cook. I will make a mess out of it."

Did she really say that aloud? What an idiot she was! Now he must think she was completely useless.

"The kitchen can be a dangerous place," Damon said, his concentration on removing the steaks from the pan and placing them on the plate. "Children shouldn't play inside the kitchen."

"I'm not a child anymore. I'm fifth teen years old," she protested.

"Adults can injure themselves badly in the kitchen too," he said. "I cut my fingers the first time I was in the Grill trying to chop the onions."

"I cut my finger when I tried to help Dad to peel off the potato skin the other day," she admitted.

"Did you cry?" Damon teased.

"I didn't cry."

"Really?"

"Nope, not me. Not when I broke my wrist and not while Dr Fell was setting it last year."

"Not even one tear?"

"Not even one."

"Good for you," he said.

"Not really." She sighed. "I fainted instead."

Damon threw back his head and burst out laughing; then he sobered and looked at her with an expression so tender that Elena's heart began to hammer. "You are amazing, sweetie," he said huskily. "You always know how to make me laugh."

Elena could hardly believe this night was actually happening, that he was really talking to her and looking at her this way. She didn't know what had finally brought it on, but she didn't want it to stop. Not yet. "Do you think I could still be a doctor if I fainted when someone fixed my wrist?"

"Why not? You were in pain and that's why you fainted, sweetie. That doesn't imply you can't be a good doctor," he reassured her. "I'm sure you will be a great one, Elena."

"You really think so?"

He smiled at her. "Yes, I do."

"Thank you," she replied happily as she stood on tiptoe and stretched as high as she could to reach a deep cupboard to get the salad bowl.

"What did you need?"

She jerked her head around to find Damon standing only inches away. "How do you do that?" she muttered, disgruntled.

"What?"

"Sneak up on me so easily."

He chuckled. "What did you need up here, sweetie?"

She lifted her gaze to his face. "The salad bowl," she said through a suddenly dry throat. "It is at the back of the cupboard."

To her disgust, he barely had to lift his arms above his head to reach into the compartment. He handed the bowl to her with another grin. Up close like this, she could see his mouth closely.

Intrigued, she stared at it, wondering what his lips would taste like, if they would be strong and sure on hers.

"You need to grow a bit taller, sweetie," he said, in a voice so low it vibrated in the kitchen. "Just another inch or so."

She flushed. "I'm almost five feet five inches. Do you think I should be taller?"

"Just a little taller will be nice," he whispered.

"Is dinner ready yet?" Jeremy charged inside the kitchen and Elena had only enough time to spring away from Damon.

"Hey, Damon, this smells delicious," Jeremy said, oblivious to the scene he had interrupted. "I'm hungry."

"Dinner is ready as soon as I get the burgers out of the oven." Damon moved towards the oven. "Where's Stefan?"

"In my room," Jeremy answered. "I will go and get him."

An hour later, Elena watched Damon changing the light bulb for her table lamp on her desk. She realised she loved watching Damon doing something. She knew a lot more about him than the other girls did, because she alone had spent substantial amounts of time with him. She had actually experienced some of the fantasies the other girls could only dream of, but there were two enormous differences between Elena and the others: she was smart enough not to try to make her fantasies into reality, and she was wise enough to understand and accept that this casual friendship she shared with him was all there was ever going to be.

She realized that she would never know how it felt to have his mouth cover hers in a kiss, or his arms close around her, or his hands press her tightly against him. She accepted all that with only a little regret. Because she was also smart enough to know that if he ever made up his mind to kiss her, she probably wouldn't be able to handle it or control him.

Damon wouldn't bother with a lot of smooth talk and rehearsed strategies; he would expect her to be a match for him in every way. But she wasn't, and she knew it. Even if she weren't hopelessly naïve compared to him, they were as different as two people could possibly be.

Damon was blunt, reckless, and earthy. Elena was reserved, cautious, and hopelessly proper.

They were from two very different worlds.

"The bulb is fused," Damon said as he removed the damaged bulb from the lamp. "It won't take a few minutes to change it."

"You seem to know everything."

He chuckled. "That's because I'm older than you, sweetie."

"You aren't old," she argued back. "You are only twenty-two."

 _And you are fifth teen_ , he thought. _Young enough to be my sister._

"Caroline bought a grey Schnauzer last weekend," she interrupted his thoughts.

"Huh? That must be fun," he muttered as he tightened the screw of the new light bulb.

"She called him Bobby. Bobby is so gorgeous and playful," she exclaimed. "I wish I could have one too."

"Why don't you ask your mum to get you a pet?" He turned on the lamp and it was working. "If you really want to have a dog."

She sat on the edge of her bed. "Jeremy has asthma and allergic rhinitis. Otherwise…" she said dreamily, "I would take Bobby straight home with me. He could have slept in my bed…"

 _Lucky dog_. The words drifted so softly through Damon's mind that he didn't notice at first what direction his thoughts had taken. He watched her closely. This girl in front of him had announced she was his best friend when he lost his father. She somehow knew how to make him laugh even when he was hurting. Elena had that special ability to brighten and beautify her surroundings simply by being there. She was an amazing woman, he decided.

She was no more than five feet five inches tall, but in denim shorts and a dark blue V-neck top, she had the figure of a goddess, with long shapely legs, full breasts, and a tiny waist. She also had a way of looking at him that made him feel mesmerized by her eyes. His gaze slid from her russet eyelashes to the gentle swell of her breasts, pausing to contemplate the curve of her smooth cheek and the softness of her lips…

Realizing that he was inventorying the feminine assets of an innocent child, Damon was furious with himself for what he had been thinking… and wanting. "You should learn to change a light bulb," he said brusquely. His voice made the girl look at him in consternation, but Damon was so angry at himself for thinking like a pervert that his tone remained harsh. "You shouldn't always rely on others to help you."

Elena couldn't believe he was speaking to her like this. Simultaneously she felt the desire to cry and had the impulse to leap to her feet, put her hands on her waist, and demand an explanation. Instead of doing either, she gave him a long look and said quietly, "I'm not useless, if that's what you mean."

"I didn't mean that at all," Damon said, feeling like a complete bastard. Inch for inch, Elena Gilbert was undoubtedly one of the most courageous, kind, independent females he had ever known. "I think it is handy for a woman to learn how to change a light bulb. You will eventually move out and have your own place in the future. You can't always rely on someone to help you."

"I know. I do know how to change a light bulb, iron my clothes and do the laundry."

"That's good." He smiled as he sat beside her. "That's pretty good."

She sighed. "But I don't know how to cook."

Damon laughed. "You really are intriguing, sweetie."

With a tremulous smile, Elena asked quietly, "don't you think I should learn to cook?"

"Unless you are really interested in cooking."

"Doesn't this cooking thing make it easy to impress a man?"

He raised his eyebrows. "You want to learn cooking to impress a man?"

"No…uh, what I mean," she stuttered, "you know what they say; a way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Is it true?"

He shrugged. "Not that I have noticed."

"You don't mind your girlfriend doesn't know how to cook?"

He shrugged again. "I can always do the cooking."

"What if you are sick and can't cook?"

"We can have takeaways."

Elena had a vivid and unwanted picture of Damon cooking for his girlfriend and then they would end up making wild, passionate love together on the kitchen table. Somehow that setting seemed better suited to his rugged and dangerous good looks. She couldn't deny the fact she was jealous. It was wrong to get jealous, but Elena couldn't help it!

Beside her, Damon warily studied the ferocious scowl on Elena's face. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

Elena snapped out of her thoughts and quickly shook her head. It was late…definitely very late, because tonight her common sense, her logic and self-control weren't operating very well.

"I'm just tired," she said already standing up.

"Yeah, sure. I better go now." He sounded a little disappointed, and Elena fought against the temptation to ask him to stay awhile longer. She was still wavering when he turned and walked towards the door. "By the way…" he said as he almost walked of out the room. "I got you this keychain." He reached into his jeans pocket and took out a keychain.

"For me?" She stared at the beautiful keychain with a rhinestone pendant charm. "This is for me?"

"It isn't much," he warned, sounding suddenly uncertain. "I saw your keychain was broken the other day, so I thought you would like to have a new one."

She continued to stare at him without saying any words.

"You probably had dozens of keychains," he added uneasily when she didn't immediately react. "It isn't very flash, is it?"

He was right on both counts, but none of that mattered to Elena. To save money, he did without all sorts of things, but he had actually gone out and gotten her a present.

Speechless, she lifted the ordinary, inexpensive keychain from his hands as carefully as if it were priceless porcelain; then she held it in front of her to admire it.

"Thank you, Damon," she whispered. Smiling, she lifted her glowing gaze to his. "Thank you," she said again.

 _You are welcome_ , Damon thought, but the incredible warmth of her reaction seemed to have momentarily melted his ability to speak and his ability to think. In silence, he closed her door behind him and walked downstairs.

x x x

Kelly Donovan stepped out of the female toilet at the Grill and grabbed a towel, looping it around her neck. Clad in tight denims and a clingy red-and-white tank top, she walked to the bar counter, feeling energized and restless. It was almost midnight. The Grill was closed and her husband, Peter was busy with the accounts. The other staffs had left after cleaning up the place. Kelly was bored. All Peter cared was the business. He wouldn't have been able to give her what she wanted beside money.

She wanted sex… hot, rough, mind-drugging, demanding, passionate sex. She did not want the sort of lukewarm, polite, predictably boring sex that Peter called "making love." She didn't want to make love at all; she wanted to make madness. She didn't want Peter…

She wanted Damon.

Furious with herself for helplessly lusting after an arrogant, disobliging, macho employee who was younger than her, she went over to the bar built into the closet and took an expensive bottle of chardonnay out of the cooler. She opened it and poured some into a glass. Peter glanced at her but didn't say anything. He continued going through the bills and letters in front of him.

She took a sip of the chardonnay. Closing her eyes, she conjured up a vivid image of Damon, his shoulders broad and heavy with muscle, his skin sleek with sweat as he drove into her with the tireless brute force she preferred most of the time.

Her thighs tightened involuntarily against the delicious recollections, and she tossed down the rest of the wine in her glass and turned away from the bar.

"Where are you going?" Peter asked but his eyes were still focusing on the bills.

"To the kitchen. I'm hungry." Tugging off the towel, Kelly walked to the back of the Grill where the kitchen was. But instead of going to the kitchen, she walked quietly around the corner to the male changing room and stopped at the doorway. Damon was still there. His back was turned, and she watched in anticipation as he stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside. The soft glow of light highlighted the rippling muscles of his shoulders and tapered back, and when he reached for the snap on his jeans, her breath came a little faster.

Perhaps that almost imperceptible sound alerted him, because he swung around and pinned her with a look that was at first alarmed and then annoyed. "You scared the hell out of me, Kelly!"

Kelly strolled into the changing room as if she owned it, which she did. "I just want to make sure the lights are switched off."

"I'm leaving in a second and I will make sure the light is switched off."

"There's no need to snap my head off," Kelly said as she leaned on the wall. "I haven't seen you in ages, and I decided to say hi, that's all," she added.

"Really, that's all?" Damon said sarcastically as his gaze took in her scanty tank top, tight denims, and seductive smile. Deliberately, he reached for his shirt, but she shook her head, her smile turning hard and determined.

"Don't get dressed, darling. I like looking at you just the way you are."

"Kelly," he said sharply, "we aren't going to go through all this again. It's over, done with, finished. I told you, I'm leaving in a second."

"That's a very disrespectful way to speak to your employer," she said, taking a few steps towards him and reaching for his cheek.

"Dammit, knock it off!" Damon snapped, jerking his head aside. For the moment, that was the only evasionary tactic available to him. As a last resort, he was prepared to physically force her out of his way, but he really didn't want to touch her. For one thing, he wasn't certain whether touching her would ignite her formidable temper or worse—ignite her passion.

"Kelly," Damon warned darkly. "You're married, for God's sake!"

"I know that," she replied, pulling off her top and tossing it on the floor.

"I like your husband," Damon said, trying unsuccessfully to sidestep her.

She gazed at him in wide-eyed wonder as she reached behind her back to unclip her bra. "I like him, too," she said.

If his predicament hadn't been so sordid and so dire, Damon would have laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of it: a beautiful woman was stripping in front of him, using her body to block his escape, while she innocently professed to like her husband, whom she was trying to cuckold.

"I'm not in the mood for a striptease," he warned her.

"You will be pretty soon," she promised, the bra straps sliding down her arms.

"You don't even know the concept of marital fidelity, do you?" he said, putting his hands on the straps to stop them from sliding off her wrists.

"It doesn't stop me from wanting you," she said, her eyes turning hot, her hands sliding up the matted dark hair on his chest. "I want you, Damon."

"I'm not interested," Damon said as he clamped his hands on hers.

She laughed low in her throat, wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, and began rubbing herself against his thighs. "Don't pretend in front of me, Damon. I know you want me."

Damon was not enticed, not excited, and he was losing his temper and patience. "I'm warning you," he said, grabbing her wrists and yanking them free. "Don't make this hard for both of us."

She shifted her hips sensuously against his and laughed suggestively in her throat as she deliberately misinterpreted his words. "No, I wouldn't say it's very hard. I'd say it's very big, but not…"

"Kelly, are you still in the kitchen?" Peter called out from the corridor.

"Oh, my God! I have to get out of here!" Kelly said, her entire body rigid.

She was shaking so hard that Damon would have pitied her if she hadn't just put both of them in jeopardy.

"Listen to me!" Damon said, his voice low and fierce as he snatched her discarded shirt and thrust it into her hands. "You stay right here.

"Then he will find me here," she panted. "I have to leave."

"Don't panic yet," he warned because she looked crazy with fear. "You sneak out from the window. He won't see you."

"Kelly?" Peter called out. "Where are you?"

"Hey Peter," Damon said as he stood at the doorway, using his body to block any view Peter might have of the changing room and the half-naked, wild-eyed woman trying to climb out of the window, clutching her shirt to her bosom.

"Hey Damon," Peter said, looking at Damon with a warm smile. "You are still here. I thought you have gone home."

"Well, I just finished cleaning the kitchen. I'm leaving soon," he lied.

"You were in the kitchen? Did you see Kelly?"

"Uh…Maybe she was in the toilet…" Damon began, but his voice trailed off as Peter's eyes riveted on something in the changing room

"Is someone still in the changing room?" Peter said.

Damon's gaze followed his to the lacy white bra on the floor but before he could react, Peter's expression went from startled, to accusing, to furious. "Aren't those my wife's bra?" he demanded. "Why is she in the male changing room?"

"Look, I can explain..."

"You son of a bitch!" Peter exploded as he whirled and swung with his right arm, his fist connecting with Damon's jaw with stunning force. "You fucking bastard!"

Momentarily free of imminent discovery, Kelly fled to the backstreet of the Grill but when she looked behind, she saw her husband moving at an infuriated half-run from the Grill toward the backstreet. "Oh, my God," she breathed, quaking in terror as her comfortable life began to shatter around her. "What will I do?" she whispered, looking wildly around the dark street for some way to avoid disaster. Then someone bumped into her.

"Hey! Watch where you are going!"

Kelly looked up. "Vicky," she cried, racing to her daughter.

Vicky's expression first startled and then alarmed. "Mum? Why are you here? What's wrong?"

"You have to help me, darling. Just do what I tell you, and don't ask questions. I will make it worth your while…"

x x x

"Where are we going, Damon?" Stefan asked the tenth time.

"We are leaving Mystic Falls," Damon said as he packed the suitcase at the back of his truck.

"But why?"

"No question." Damon opened the passenger seat. "Get in the truck, Stefan."

"When are we coming back?" Stefan asked as he slid into the passenger seat and Damon shut the door.

Damon swallowed as if his throat were constricted and looked at Stefan through the opened window, but when he spoke his voice was cold and final. "We are not coming back here."

Stefan gaped at him. "But what about school?"

"You will go to a new school," he said as he climbed inside the truck.

"What about your job?"

"I will get a new one," he replied as he started the engine.

"Where are you heading to?" Stefan asked as Damon drove out of the driveway of the Salvatore mansion.

"I'm going all the way to the West Coast. Los Angeles," Damon said in a tone that discouraged further conversation. "Just sit back and relax."

Stefan glanced at his brother. Damon's gaze was unreadable behind the shield of his sunglasses. There was no point asking more questions. He knew Damon wouldn't answer them.

It was an hour later when Damon spoke voluntarily for the first time. "I know you have a lot of questions, Stefan. But I don't have answers for all of them."

Stefan settled deeper into the seat and looked out of the window. "I understand."

"I can only promise I will take good care of you, Stefan." Damon flexed his hands on the chunky steering wheel. "You and I, we stick together. Always."


	4. Chapter 4

_LOS ANGELES 2016_

Her lips were soft and inviting against his as she sighed, then whispered, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you, too, Elena."

Smiling, she folded her arms around his neck and placed her lips on his again, putting more passion into their kiss … or trying to. "Liam!"

"What?"

"Kiss me."

"I did."

"I mean, really kiss me," she said and growled sexily. "You are allowed to kiss sexy, you know, even though it is Christmas."

"Elena, please." Nervously the man glanced around the dancefloor inside the restaurant. "Somebody might see us."

She removed her arms from around his neck and blew out a gust of air. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Liam, you are so damn proper! Nobody is looking. And if anyone is, who would care if we are out here necking?"

Time to change the topic, Liam thought. "Do you like your bracelet?"

Temporarily distracted, she replied, "Of course I like the bracelet. What woman wouldn't? It's beautiful."

Raising her arm, she shook the heavy gold bangle around her wrist. "I'm glad you let me open my present tonight instead of waiting for Christmas Day."

"This way you can enjoy it over the whole holiday."

"That was very thoughtful of you. Thank you."

"I still sense that you are disappointed."

Elena Gilbert looked up at him through her dense lashes and made a softly spoken confession. "I thought you might give me my engagement ring for Christmas."

Before he could say anything, she rushed on. "But it's not as though we have already picked out rings. Who knows? I might not even want a traditional engagement ring. I will probably flaunt convention and choose something radically different. Maybe a coloured stone instead of a diamond."

Liam cast his eyes down to the black lace cocktail dress she was wearing. The dress was sleeveless and the hem flirted with her knees.

He smiled weakly. "Nobody ever accused you of being conventional, Elena."

"Thank heaven for that." A movement of her head sent her mane of dark brown hair swinging over her shoulders. "I'm glad you like my dress. I thought I would like to look a bit sexy tonight."

"Well, you look sexy tonight."

"Thanks. Why don't we go to the veranda so that we can have some private moments to ourselves?"

He frowned. 'It's cold outside."

"It's not that cold. Come on."

Taking his hand, Elena had dragged Liam to the balcony doors on the other side of the restaurant, and spirited him outside for a breath of fresh air on the long, wide veranda of one of the fine dining restaurants in Los Angeles. The place was strung with twinkling Christmas lights. Inside the restaurant behind them, an enormous Christmas tree, arranged by a decorator who favoured lace, pearls, and butterflies, commanded attention from one of the wide windows overlooking the veranda.

Though the temperature was relatively mild, Liam hunched deeper into the collar of his dark suit coat and slid his hands into his pants pockets. This belligerent stance never failed to irritate Elena who thought it made him look like a sulky rich kid. It usually meant he had something unpleasant on his mind that he dreaded discussing.

"Why did we need to be out here?" he asked, frowning. "It is freezing out here."

"You need to toughen up, man," she teased. "Winter is my absolute favourite season. Spring is overrated. It's soggy and the trees are still bare from winter. Summer is nice, but it's all the same. There is snow in winter which makes it exciting. Unfortunately, it does not regularly snow in the urban city of Los Angeles. We have snow in Mystic Falls every year. It is so beautiful. I have always dreamed to get married during winter when there is snow everywhere. Speaking of which," she added on a burst of inspiration, "Valentine's Day would be such a romantic date to get officially engaged. Even better than Christmas."

"The fact is, Elena, I'm wondering if we are not jumping the gun to announce our engagement."

The statement caught her off guard, but instantly captured her full attention. "What do you mean?"

Liam cleared his throat. "Well, you know I'm always interested in the academic medicine. Academic medicine can be an uncertain business. Competition for research grants is fierce, and there is constant pressure for innovative ideas."

"I know you have to put in those extra hours for research. I work odd hours in the ER too. If you are worried about money, that's not a problem. The pay for the ER physician is pretty good."

"I'm not worried about money. Academics are now paid on the same pay scale as the clinical colleagues."

"Then what are you worried about? Lighten up. It's Christmas!"

He glanced at the line of cars crawling past the restaurant. "I don't think you understand what I'm trying to tell you, Elena."

Her wide smile faltered. "Apparently not, but it must be something terrible. You look like you are about to throw up. Don't torture yourself any longer or keep me in suspense. If you have got something to say, let's hear it."

He scratched his head, he coughed behind his fist, he shuffled his feet. "I have given this a lot of thought lately, and…"

"And?"

"And I don't think… It's not that you are…Elena, we are just not…"

"Not what?"

He floundered, opening and closing his mouth several times before blurting out, "Suited. We are just not suited to each other."

Having said that, his shoulders relaxed. He exhaled a deep breath. By all appearances, he had relieved himself of a tremendous burden.

Dumbfounded, Elena stared at him. She couldn't believe her ears. She had been dating Liam exclusively for more than two years. It had been understood that they would get married when Liam got into academic medicine. The semester was ending, and she had been expecting an engagement ring and a formal announcement of their impending marriage during the holiday season. It was preposterous to think he was dumping her. Her! Elena Gilbert! Surely she had misunderstood.

"You can't mean you are breaking our engagement?"

He cleared his throat again. "I think we ought to think about it some more."

"Don't beat around the bush, Liam" she said testily. "If you are dumping me, at least have the guts to come right out and say so."

"I'm not dumping you. Exactly. Mother thinks—"

"Oh, 'Mother thinks …' Mother thinks that I'm not good enough for her little boy."

"Don't put words in my mouth, Elena."

"Then spit it out."

"Mother thinks, and I agree, that you are, well, a little too rowdy for me."

"Rowdy?"

"We have different interest."

"Different interest?"

"I like classical music but you absolutely hate it."

"I don't hate classical. I'm just not into classical music."

"Elena, be fair," he protested.

"Fair be damned. I'm mad."

"You have got no right to be."

"No right?"

"If you will think back, I never officially asked you to marry me. Did I?" he asked uncertainly.

"Of course you did!" she cried. "We talked about it all the time. Jeremy and aunt Jenna…"

"Will be delighted if it never comes off," he interrupted. "Your brother think I'm a wimp. Your aunt only tolerates me because she is nice to everybody. Your best friend Caroline shakes her head with what appears to be disapproval every time she looks at me."

"You are imagining all of that," she averred, though she knew he wasn't.

"Well, whatever," he said impatiently, "I think we need a rest from each other."

Her anger gave way to hurt. "I thought you loved me."

"I do."

"Then why are we having this conversation? I love you, too."

He looked earnestly, miserable. "I love you, Elena. You are beautiful and sexy. You are the most unpredictable, fascinating woman I have ever met. You make my head spin. You are exuberant. You like pushing people around, bending them to your will."

"You make me sound like a longshoreman!"

"I don't intend to. You have got a zest for life that I can't match. I'm tired of trying. You are spontaneous and impetuous. I'm methodical and careful. Your politics are liberal. Mine, conservative. All things considered, I would say our differences are irreconcilable."

"Opposites attract."

"I'm beginning to think not."

"This is all crap, Liam. You are trying to sugar-coat it, aren't you? You are lining up your justifications. If you are going to jilt me, at least dignify it by not being so mealy-mouthed."

"Don't make this harder for me than it is," he complained.

 _Hard on him?_ Elena formed a fist as though preparing to sock him. "You don't love me anymore. Isn't that what this is really about?"

"No. Everything I said before is true. I do love you, Elena. But, damn, it takes so much of my energy just keeping up." He gave a helpless laugh. "We are so different."

"I haven't noticed you complaining about our different personalities before," she said coolly. "In fact, you told me that you are intrigued by who I'm and what I stand for."

He had the grace to look chagrined. "I deserved that. The fact is, Elena," he said, sounding dispirited, "I want to devote the time and attention to my studies that they demand. I think we should take a break from each other and give ourselves time to reassess the situation before we jump into marriage."

He touched her for the first time, placing his hands lightly on her shoulders. "When you have had time to think about it, I'm sure you will agree with me. I'm no more right for you than you are for me. You might believe you love me, but I think you have only talked yourself into it."

She jerked her shoulders free. "Don't start doing my thinking and believing for me, Elena."

This must be a bad dream, a nightmare, she thought. Soon she would wake up, call Liam, and tell him about the bizarre dream she had had and warn him never to make it come true.

It was too real, however, to be a dream. Holiday lights twinkled all around her. She could hear carols playing over the stereo system inside the restaurant. She could feel the pressure of tears behind her eyelids. Humiliation had a brassy taste. She had always been the one who told admirers when it was over. If there was any breaking off to be done, she was the one to do it.

Liam, even tempered and ambitious, had been positively crazy about her. She couldn't believe he was dumping her. Why several months ago, he had pleaded with her to share an apartment with him, which she had declined to do. After sulking for a few days, he claimed to love her all the more for her strong moral fibre.

They rarely quarrelled. He had his moments of pique when he could stubbornly take a position and refuse to give way. Like now. When backed into a corner, however, he usually surrendered to her stronger will.

"To tell you the truth, Liam, I'm not big on postponements. Either you love me and want to marry me, or you don't." She tossed back her hair and confronted him challengingly. "Make up your mind. It's now or never."

He looked pained as he studied her determined expression and the belligerent angle of her chin. Finally, he said, "If you put it that way, I guess it's never, Elena."

That knocked the wind out of her, though she managed to maintain a proud posture. Such bald rejection was inconceivable. He couldn't do this to her!

When he had time to think about it, he would regret it. He would come crawling back on hands and knees, begging her to share his bright future as a successful dermatologist. Until then, she would be damned before she would show him how much he had hurt her. Not a single tear would he see.

Defiantly she said, "That's fine with me. I'm leaving now."

"Now?" he exclaimed. "We have ordered dessert. You didn't drive here tonight."

"I will manage."

"Look, Elena, why don't we finish dessert and then I will drive you home. We can still be friends. I still want to be friends."

"Go to hell."

"Don't behave this way," he pleaded.

One of her brows arched malevolently. "What way?"

"Like a high-strung brat."

"I'm a high-strung brat? And you claimed to love me!"

"There's no reasoning with you when you get like this." Liam cursed beneath his breath and turned away from her. "If you want to leave by yourself, go ahead." Righteously indignant, he went through the door.

"I don't need you to drive me home!" she called after him. The door was decorated with a wreath that in Elena's opinion was extravagant to the point of vulgarity. So was the Christmas tree in the living room. Where were the Santas and candy canes and tinsel they decorated with at her home?

She glared at the gaudy artificial tree through the sparkling windowpanes. The lights placed at precise intervals along its perfect branches began to blur. The tears that had threatened before now filled her eyes, making the shiny decorations look crystalline.

As her initial anger abated, she began to feel the impact of what Liam had done. Someone whom she loved, whom she believed had loved her, had rejected her.

All that he had said could be paraphrased in four simple words: "I don't want you." She might be beautiful and sexy, but the bottom line was, he didn't want her. Her zest for life, as he had called it, was irksome to him.

What was she going to tell everybody? How could she hold her head up when word of this got around? What would her own family think?

How could Liam do this? She loved him. They were perfectly compatible. Couldn't he see that? She liked to manoeuvre; he would rather be maneuverer. He plodded; she was good at prodding. He was so stolid, he needed someone exuberant in his life—to quote him.

He must be suffering from temporary insanity, she decided. He would come around. Eventually. Her guess was that it wouldn't take too long. He would miss her terribly. Without her, his life would be dull and colourless.

When he did come slinking back with his tail tucked between his legs, and his pride a big goose egg caught in his throat, she would be slow to forgive him for hurting her this way. He had ruined her favourite season of the year. She would never forgive him.

Elena rushed out of the fancy restaurant, her vision blurred with unshed tears. She was so gutted that she stepped off the curb distractedly, startled when a strong, masculine hand grabbed her arm.

Her head jerked around and she tilted her chin to look up—way up—at a man she had never seen before.

"The traffic is busy tonight, and I was afraid you were going to keep walking. You look like you are in another place. It's hard to believe you didn't hear the traffic. You must be really distracted. I hope I didn't scare you. I'm sorry."

Honestly, she might have kept walking if he hadn't detained her. Her brain was so muddled, her world so disrupted at the moment that she couldn't hear the cars. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I wasn't thinking properly."

He was tall with broad shoulders, and he definitely had the "bad boy" look going on. But when he grinned at her, Elena had a difficult time not smiling back. For as tough as he looked on the exterior, his eyes were kind. And somehow, he looked kind of familiar, as if she had met him before.

"Have we met before?" He let go of her arm slowly.

"I don't think so," she answered as she took in his black leather jacket he was wearing. She also noted the expensive tan slacks he was wearing, the shiny loafers, and the matching socks, and assumed he must be a rich businessman. His hair was dark, almost black, and his eyes were blue and intense.

"You need a ride? My car is right across the street." He waved his arm at a limo sitting directly across from them.

She shook her head vigorously. "My fiancé's car—" She caught herself, her voice shaky. "I mean my ex-fiancé's car is here somewhere."

"You just broke up," the stranger guessed, his smile fading.

"Yes." She thought better about confessing her problems to a stranger and corrected herself. "No."

Then she looked into the eyes of her rescuer and wondered why she cared about telling anybody the truth. She had nothing to lose anymore. "Yes," she murmured sadly. "I'm sorry. I guess since it just happened, I'm not quite used to admitting I got dumped."

"No reason to ride with an asshole. Come with me."

She shook her head again. "I need a moment by myself."

He looked concern. "Are you sure you are okay?"

"Yeah. I will be fine," she murmured as she turned away from him.

The man put a detaining hand on her forearm. "Don't take any shit from anybody, lady. Not ever. You are a beautiful woman. Any guy would be lucky to have you. Remember that."

She nodded, getting teary-eyed as she got her last glimpse of his earnest face, touched that a complete stranger, had listened to her woes and helped her, even though he didn't even know her.

It was enough to almost restore her faith in the goodness of people.

"Have a good Christmas," she told him with a sniffle.

"You too."

Her heart was just a little bit lighter as she watched him got inside the limo before the limo drove away. It had been a strange encounter. And the strangest thing was she felt very comfortable when she was with this man. She felt as if she had known him for a long, long time.

x x x

Billy Joe pulled the car over to the curb in front of Intercorp's building, and before it came to a complete stop, Damon flung open the door and climbed out.

"Good afternoon, Mr Salvatore. And, congratulations" the guard called as he walked inside the building.

"Congratulations, Mr Salvatore," the receptionist said as Damon stepped out of the elevator on the fifteen floor.

Damon replied with a brief, preoccupied nod and continued through the executive reception area, which was separated from the offices by a tall teak-panelled wall bearing the corporation's insignia. There, visitors with appointments waited in luxurious comfort on pale green leather sofas, surrounded by a sea of thick oriental carpeting dotted with graceful mahogany tables and accent pieces inlaid with mother-of-pearl or trimmed with brass.

Oblivious to the restrained splendour of the reception area, Damon turned to the right behind the teak-panelled wall and continued down the carpeted hallway toward his office, only vaguely aware that the place was unnaturally silent.

As Damon passed by the main conference room, Rose Slater, the head of advertising and public relations, stopped him. "Damon, could you come in here a moment?"

As soon as Damon stepped into the room, champagne corks began popping, and a few employees burst into applause in honour of the corporation's latest coup—Intercorp had been named the top ten most successful corporation in the United States of American.

Ten years ago, after he finished working in Venezuela, he had used his bonus and the additional money he had saved up, to buy a small automotive parts manufacturing company that was teetering on bankruptcy. A year later, he sold it for twice what it had cost. Using his share of the profits and additional money he borrowed from banks and private investors, he formed Intercorp and, for the next several years, he continued to buy up companies that were teetering on bankruptcy—not because they were poorly managed, but only because they were under-capitalized—then he shored them up with Intercorp's capital and waited for a buyer.

Later, instead of selling the companies off, he began a carefully planned acquisition program. As a result, in one decade, he had built Intercorp into the financial empire he had imagined during those grim days and nights he laboured in the garage and sweated on the oil rig. Today, Intercorp was a massive conglomerate headquartered in Los Angeles that controlled businesses as diverse as pharmaceutical research laboratories and textile mills.

"Congratulations, Damon," Trevor Harrison, the company's controller, said as he pressed a glass of champagne into Damon's hand.

"Speech!" Rose called out. "We want a speech," she persisted determinedly in the jocular tone of a man who feels compelled to make everyone feel relaxed and everything look rosy, and who has also had too much to drink. In this case his efforts struck a particularly false note, because jovial camaraderie between the executive staff and the corporation's hard-driving CEO simply did not exist.

Damon glanced impatiently at her, then relented and gave his "speech."

"Well," he said with a brief, perfunctory smile, "it has been a successful year for the Intercorp. Thanks to all the hard work of the employees. But I think it is time to get back to work."

"I was hoping for a quote I could use for the media," Rose said. "My phone's been ringing off the hook since the announcement was made two hours ago."

"I will leave that to you. Thinking up quotable quotes for the media is your job, Rose, not mine," he replied; then he turned and headed toward his office, leaving Rose feeling reprimanded and everyone else feeling a little deflated.

Within minutes the group had disbanded, leaving only Rose, April Yong, Rose's new assistant and Trevor in the conference room.

April Young was the first to speak. Tall and glamorous, the thirty-year-old brunette was the youngest, and newest, member of the senior staff. "What a let-down," she said with an exasperated sigh. "Wall Street is in an uproar when the announcement was made. Intercorp topped Klaus Mikaelson's Seaboad Industry and two other major firms in the country. We are all euphoric, the clerical staff is proud, and the janitorial people are probably dancing a jig," she finished, "but the man who is in charge doesn't seem to care."

"Oh, he cares," Rose told her. "When you have been here for six months, you will realize that you have just seen Damon Salvatore exhibiting extreme pleasure. In fact, he was happier just now than I have ever seen him."

April looked at the two executives in disbelief. "What's he like when he is unhappy?"

Trevor shook his head. "You don't want to see that."

"He can't be that bad," April argued.

"Oh, yeah?" Trevor joked. He pointed to his thick, immaculately groomed grey hair. "I didn't have a strand of grey hair two years ago, when I went to work for Damon." The other two laughed, and he added, "That nice, fat salary and benefit package you got when you came to work here comes with a few strings attached."

"Like what?" April asked.

"Like phone calls at midnight because Damon has some new idea and wants you to act on it," Rose said.

"And you'd better learn how to pack a suitcase and catch a plane with an hour's notice on a weekend," Trevor added, "because our CEO doesn't live by clocks or calendars."

"Weekends?" Gloria exclaimed in mock horror. "I'll have to start turning off my phone on Friday nights!"

Everyone laughed, but April had known when she applied for this job that a great many demands were going to be made of her. The challenge had been much of its appeal.

Before giving up her own Dallas PR firm to come to work for Intercorp, she had read every article she could find about the aggressive, enigmatic entrepreneur who had made history by putting together a very large, very profitable conglomerate before he was thirty years old.

From personal experience, she had already learned that he was an exacting and demanding employer, with an aloof, impatient attitude that discouraged familiarity, even among his senior executives, who all treated him with caution and deference.

He seemed to be as unconcerned about making enemies as he was about his public image, and yet, he was ferociously protective of the corporation's reputation.

"He is a complete mystery to everyone in the business world, including the people around here," April said, thinking aloud. "No one really knows anything about him."

"Damon hardly talks about himself. I only know he has a brother who is a working as a prosecutor in Washington D.C," Rose said.

"Parents?" April asked.

Trevor shrugged. "No idea. I suspect his parents had passed away."

"Very mysterious. He sounds like an intriguing man," April said.

"What makes you think Damon Salvatore is a man?" Trevor replied half seriously. "I have reason to believe he's actually a robot with artificial intelligence in an eight-thousand-dollar suit." When the other two laughed, he lightened up a little. "You are laughing, but there's data to support my opinion. He doesn't play golf, he doesn't play tennis, and he's not interested in professional sports or any sort of social life. If he has a friend in the world, no one knows who it is. His former secretary told me the only non-business calls he gets are from women. Women," Trevor finished with an accusing glance at April and Rose, "all seem to find him fascinating."

"Hey, don't look at me like that. I'm a happily married woman with two beautiful boys," Rose said. "I'm faithful to my husband."

"But there are a lot of our female employees who have fantasies in our CEO." Trevor said. "Talk about power, money…"

"I hate to interrupt this enlightening discussion," April lied as she stood up and put her glass on the table, "but I have a job to do, and I'd better get at it. Mr Salvatore may not care about his public image, but it affects the corporation, and we're being paid to enhance it. While he's here today, let's talk him into a press conference about the future corporate plans, and all that."

"He won't do it," Rose warned as she stood up. "I have tried."

"Let's double-team him then and see if the two of us can prevail upon his good sense."

"He's already turned me down. Maybe you will have beginner's luck if you try it alone— assuming you can even get in to see him."

Getting in to see Damon Salvatore was much easier than getting his attention, April had realized within moments of being admitted to the chrome-and-glass inner sanctum with its silver-grey carpeting and burgundy suede furnishings.

For the past ten minutes, she had been seated in front of Damon Salvatore's desk, trying to convince him to agree to a press conference while he signed documents, talked to his secretary, made several phone calls, and mostly ignored her.

Suddenly his eyes levelled on her. "You were saying?" he said in the clipped tone of one issuing a command to continue, which of course he was.

"I…" April faltered beneath that cold, assessing gaze, then forged ahead. "I was trying to explain that a press conference now is not merely helpful, it is vital. The press has already made the Intercorp looks like a barbarian. You are being seen as a ruthless…"

"It doesn't matter what the press think."

"It is important for Intercorp's image, and public relation is the key to it."

She had a point and Damon knew it, but he didn't particularly appreciate having to face it or admit it. There had been a long rash of publicity about his private life and amorous affairs, and it was beneficial to Intercorp's image for its chief executive officer to be seen in his corporate persona for a change. When it came to Intercorp, Damon made whatever sacrifices were necessary.

Until recently, Damon had made it a practice to purchase only selected companies that were for sale. A year ago, however, he had entered into negotiations to buy a multi-billion-dollar electronics manufacturer headquartered in New York. Originally, the company had approached him, asking if Intercorp would be interested in acquiring them.

Damon had liked the idea, but after spending a great deal of revenue and many months finalizing the agreement, the officers of Smith Electronics had suddenly refused to accept the previously agreed-upon terms. Angry at the waste of Intercorp's time and money, Damon decided to acquire Smith with or without their consent. As a result of that decision, a fierce and well-publicized battle ensued. At the end of it, Smith's officers and directors were left lying crippled on the financial battlefield, and Intercorp had gained a very profitable electronics manufacturer. Along with victory, however, Damon also acquired a reputation as a ruthless corporate raider. That didn't particularly faze him; it was no more irksome than his reputation as an international playboy which the press had bestowed upon him. Adverse publicity and the loss of his personal privacy were the costs of success, and he accepted them with the same philosophical indifference that he felt for the fawning hypocrisy he encountered socially, and the treachery he faced from business adversaries. Sycophants and enemies came with extraordinary success, and if dealing with them had made him extremely cynical and wary, that, too, was the price he'd had to pay.

But none of that bothered him.

Lifelong enemies, unjust public accusations, and hard feelings were the dues that one paid for success. Damon paid his without complaint, as did those other determined visionaries who, like him, had managed in the last two decades to harvest vast personal fortunes from soil that was no longer fertile, in an economic climate that was considered unhealthy.

"Fine. Let me think about it," he said. "When do you want to have the press conference?"

For a split second, April couldn't believe her ears. "I— As soon as possible. How about tomorrow? That's enough time to set it up."

He was signing more papers handed to him by his secretary, but he glanced up at her and shook his head. "I have to fly to New York tomorrow and will only be back late at night."

"Christmas eve?" April asked hopefully.

"That's fine."

April's mental cheer was strangled by the secretary, who turned over the page in his desk calendar, pointed to something written on it, and said, "I'm afraid Christmas eve is out of the question. You have three meetings that day and then you have to attend the Charity Ball at the Cedars-Sinai Medical Centre at night."

"Charity Ball?" he demanded, sounding disgusted and irate at the prospect. "For what?"

"You donated a sculpture to the charity auction that precedes the ball, and you are to be honoured for your generosity."

"Send someone else."

They all looked up in surprise as April negated that suggestion. "I put the Charity Ball thing together. The sculpture will be the most valuable item to be auctioned off…"

"It will also be the ugliest," Damon interjected in such a mild, factual tone that April choked back an inappropriate giggle.

"Why did you buy it?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"I was told it would be a good investment, and it's gone up substantially in value over the one year. Unfortunately, I don't like it any better now than I did when I bought it. Let someone else go to the Charity Ball in the corporation's name and take the bow."

"It has to be you," April stubbornly persisted. "When public relations suggested you make a donation, you made a very generous one. The proceeds go to the hospital where they plan to build a new wing for the Emergency Room. The timing is perfect for a little publicity there, followed by a press conference here next week."

Damon stopped writing and stared hard at her, but he couldn't find an argument to outweigh her logic, and in a small way, he approved of her resolute determination to do the job the company was paying her to do, despite his personal opposition and lack of cooperation. "Fine," he said curtly.

Dismissed, April got up and left. After she left, Damon leaned back in his chair and looked at his secretary, Bree, who, with an appreciative gleam in her eyes, was watching April exit. "Tenacious, isn't she," Bree remarked when she was out of earshot.

"Very."

"Great legs, too."

Damon raised his brows. "You think so?"

"Don't you think so?" Bree asked.

They had been an ideal match from the very first day she had arrived at his office along with twenty other women, most of them young and attractive, who had been sent over to Damon by an employment agency. Most of them were airheads, or openly flirtatious, and he was in no mood to tolerate either stupidity or women's wiles. What he wanted, needed, was someone smart and reliable, someone who would keep pace with his newly reinforced drive to make it to the top. He had just tossed the last applicant's resume in the wastebasket, when he looked up and saw Bree Watson marching toward him in her stout-heeled shoes, plain black suit, her black hair in a prim bun. She thrust her resume into his hand and waited in stoic silence while Damon read the pertinent facts which included the information that she was forty years old, unmarried, and that she could type and take shorthand. Damon had glanced up at her, intending to question her, only to have her announce in a frosty, defensive voice, "I am not unaware that I'm twenty years older than those other applicants out there, and twenty times less attractive. However, because I have never been a beautiful woman, I have had to develop and rely upon my other qualities."

Taken aback, Damon had asked, "What are those qualities?"

"My mind and my skills," she had replied. "In addition to my typing and shorthand skills, I am also a paralegal and a full-charge bookkeeper."

She had a certain aloof pride that Damon admired, and he sensed in her the same rigid determination to get the job done that he felt. Based on that instinctive belief that she was right for the position, he said bluntly, "The hours are long and the salary isn't great now. I'm just getting started. If I make it to the top, I promise I will take you with me. Your salary will go up according to your contribution."

"Agreed."

"I will be traveling a great deal. Later, there may be times when you will have to accompany me."

Amazingly, her brown eyes had narrowed. "Perhaps you ought to be more specific about my duties, Mr Salvatore. Women undoubtedly find you an extremely attractive man; however, I'm …"

Dumbfounded that she apparently thought he was planning to make a pass at her, and angered by her censorious, unsolicited opinion of his appeal to other women, Damon had replied in a voice even colder than hers, "Your duties would be purely secretarial, and no more. I'm not interested in an affair or a flirtation; I don't want cake on my birthday, or coddling, or your opinions on personal matters that pertain to me alone. All I want is your time and your skills. Understand?"

"I understand," she replied.

"When can you start?"

"Now."

He had never regretted his decision. Within a week, he had realized that like him, Bree Watson could work at a ceaseless, killing pace without ever wearing out or wearing down. The more responsibility he gave her, the more she accomplished. They never bridged the barrier that had been erected between them when she expressed alarm over his intentions. At first, they had simply been too absorbed in their mutual work to give it thought. Later it didn't seem to matter, they had fallen into a routine, and it worked magnificently for both of them. Damon had made it all the way to the top, and she had worked day and night beside him, without complaint. In fact, she was a nearly indispensable asset to his business life, and, true to his word, he had rewarded her loyalty and efforts liberally with an impressive salary per annum.

"By the way, you have a dinner appointment with the banker, Mr Tanner tonight," Bree said, sliding a file across the desk. "This is the financial statement of the Dallas company you have requested."

"Thanks. Is Enzo around? I want to talk to him."

"Sure." Bree got up and left his room. He swivelled his chair around and began removing files from the credenza behind his desk.

There was a quick rap on his door following by the click of the latch a few moments later. Damon turned around and saw Enzo strolled into the office.

Enzo was the director of the department of marketing of Intercorp. He was highly efficient and intelligent. But what Damon liked him the most was Enzo was loyal. He had worked for the first company that Damon had bought. When he sold it, Enzo elected to take his chances with Damon rather than the new owners who had offered him an excellent position and a better salary.

"I heard about the announcement," Enzo said as he wandered over to the desk and sat down in the chair that faced it. "We did it, didn't we?"

"Yes." Damon opened the file on potential acquisitions that Enzo had left with him. All of them were corporations that owned large blocks of commercial real estate, and Damon had reviewed each one over the weekend. He was pleased with several of Enzo's choices, impressed by the extraordinary thoroughness of his research, and slightly stunned by some of his recommendations. "What do you particularly like about the Houston company?"

"Several things," Enzo replied. "Their properties are mostly new commercial mid-rise buildings with a high percentage of occupancy. Nearly all their tenants are established corporations with long-term leases, and all the buildings are extremely well-maintained and managed. I saw that myself when I flew to Houston to look them over."

"What about the Chicago company?"

"They are into high-rent residential buildings in prime locations here and their profits are excellent."

Damon's gaze narrowed on Enzo as he bluntly pointed out, "From what I could see in this file, many of their buildings are over thirty years old. The cost of renovating and repairs will begin eating into those excellent profits in seven to ten years."

"I took that into account when I prepared that profit forecast in the file," Enzo said. "Also, the land those buildings are sitting on will always be worth a fortune."

Satisfied, Damon nodded and opened the next file. "What made you consider this Richmond company?"

"If Richmond continues its economic recovery, property values are going to soar and…."

"What makes you think Richmond will continue its economic recovery?"

"The State of Virginia is trying hard to promote its tourism. With its beautiful beaches, lakes and small town communities, Virginia has long been a favourite retreat of tourists. Take for example, Mystic Falls, one of the towns in Virginia has been founded in the 1800s and many tourists have been drawn to the town by the simple charm of its village-look and the wild beauty of its surroundings."

"How do you know all these?" Damon asked.

Enzo smiled. "My wife, Bonnie and I were there for our honeymoon last year. We decided its true appeal was its wonderfully eccentric character. In fact, I found out that there is a piece of land in Mystic Falls that is for sale and a few players are interested in it. They could either develop it themselves or hold on to the land and sell it later for a nice profit. Five years ago, it was worth $10 million. If Virginia continues its economic recovery, it will worth more than that."

"Hmm."

"Tell me something, Damon," Enzo said. "Any chance you are related to the Salvatore Industries?"

Damon went still. "What did you say?"

"Salvatore Industries is responsible for the economic prosperity of most of the Mystic Falls families. The Salvatore family is one of the Founder Families of the town and now the richest." Enzo drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair and studied Damon's expression. He had worked for this man in front of him for almost ten years but Damon Salvatore was still like a stranger to him. "The surname Salvatore isn't a common one, is it?"

Damon rose to his feet and walked over to the windows. "Is the Salvatore Industries planning to buy that land?"

"Yes."

Damon gaze shifted to the files on the desk. The companies recommended by Enzo were huge potentials for profit. But profit wasn't on his mind right now. With renewed anger, he was thinking of what Zach Salvatore had done to his father.

"Buy it," he said softly.

Enzo looked startled. "What?"

"I said buy the land in Mystic Falls. I'm not interested in anything except the piece of property that Salvatore Industries wants. Tell legal to draw up an offer, find the owner and get me the land."

"But Damon…"

"There's another contingency. If the owner accepts our offer, they are to keep the entire transaction completely confidential. No one is to know we are buying that land until after the sale is consummated. Tell legal to include all that in the contract, along with the other usual contingencies."

Suddenly Enzo felt uneasy. In the past, when Damon had invested in or bought companies Enzo had recommended, he hadn't done it on Enzo's recommendations alone. Far from it. He would have checked things out himself and taken precautions. This time, however, if something went wrong, Enzo would be solely and entirely held to blame. "Damon, I really don't think…"

"Enzo," Damon interrupted with silky finality. "Buy the goddamned property."

Nodding, Enzo stood up and retreated from his room.

When Enzo left, Damon shifted his gaze out the windows. He had never forgotten how Zach Salvatore hurt his father twenty-one years ago. He had promised his mother he would look after his father and Stefan. And he had vowed he would take back everything that belonged to his father. Zach was going to have to pay Intercorp for the land he wanted in Mystic Falls.


	5. Chapter 5

Jo Parker's uneasiness grew as she looked at the Elena's tray. She had hardly touched her lunch. "Elena?" Jo said hesitantly, "I don't mean to pry, but is something wrong?"

For a moment, Jo thought Elena either hadn't heard her or didn't want to answer; then Elena lifted her head and looked at her friend, her brown eyes bright with some emotion. "I think you could say that," she said in a shaky whisper. "Liam and I broke up."

Jo's eyes widened. "What?"

"He broke up with me last week."

"But why? I thought you two were getting married soon."

"That's what I thought initially," Elena said. "I thought he was going to propose during Christmas…" She broke off as Jessie Howard walked into the cafeteria, looking rushed and stricken.

"What's wrong?" Jo asked, peering at Jessie's troubled face.

"You haven't heard?"

"What?" Elena asked.

"Liam is engaged with Nadia Weston!" Jessie announced.

Elena went still. Nadia Weston was Liam's assistant in one of the research studies he was involved in.

"That bastard!" Jo breathed. "That sneak, how could he do that to Elena? He just broke off with you last week and now he is engaged!"

"What?" Jessie exclaimed, stunned. "He broke off with you last week?"

Elena caught her breath. "Liam is engaged with Nadia?"

"They just announced their engagement this morning," Jessie said. "They are getting married after New Year."

Jessie's words made Elena's stomach curl in on itself. Oh, God! Liam had planned to break up with her last week? The bracelet he gave it to her was a break up souvenir?

Part of her refused to believe it. Liam wasn't capable of that kind of duplicity. Liam did love her, didn't he? He said he loved her. But the other part of her, the part fuelled by searing anger, called him every name she could think of. How could she have fallen for his line of bull? He was trying to make up some excuses that she was the one to be blamed for their relationship not working out. In fact, he was seeing someone else behind her back.

"Son of a bitch," Jo hissed. "That bastard is seeing Nadia behind your back all this time!"

"He is a scumbag," Jessie added.

"A jerk…"

"Thank you both," Elena said with a teary, forced laugh. "At a time like this, loyalty counts for a lot."

Jo and Jessie exchanged sympathetic glances; then Jo reached out and held Elena's hand in hers. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"But I'm not sorry," Elena said. "It's not my fault. I deserve someone better."

"Yes, you are right," Jo agreed. "He doesn't deserve you."

"Why don't we go out and have a fun night tomorrow?" Jessie said. "It's Christmas eve tomorrow. We should have a party."

"No, I can't." Elena managed to lift her chin a notch, but her eyes were still wounded and glazed with shock. "I have to attend the Charity Ball tomorrow night."

"But Liam will be there at the Charity Ball. Nadia may turn up as well," Jessie said.

"Elena," Jo said very firmly, "you don't have to attend the ball if you don't want to."

"I have to because I'm the committee for the Charity Ball this year," Elena explained. "I know what you two are worried about. By end of the day, I suspect a lot of people will know about Liam's engagement. If I don't turn up to the ball, they will think it's because I can't face people."

"Why do you care what other people think?" Jo said.

"That's right. I don't really care what other people think," Elena said, getting her voice under control and her features into a semblance of their normal expression. "Which means I have to turn up to the Charity Ball."

Jo knew it was useless to argue. Elena had a great deal of pride and courage, and both those things would force her to brave out the day no matter how shattered she was. "Okay. Alaric is going to pick me up at seven tomorrow. Why don't you follow us?"

She half expected Elena to proudly decline that offer, but she didn't. "Thanks," she said.

x x x

Traffic on the streets in downtown Los Angeles was heavy for five p.m. on Christmas eve but the chauffeur maneuverer the long black Mercedes limousine skilfully from lane to lane in a graceful, daring dance of speed, power, and timing. Crowds of shoppers huddled tightly in their coats rushed across the intersection, ignoring the don't walk signal, their heads bent against the bitter wind that whirled through the downtown streets. Car horns blared and drivers cursed the pedestrians, who were causing them to miss their green light. The weather had turned cold but it still hadn't stopped the crowds of Christmas shoppers to do their last-minute shopping.

Heedless of the driver's efforts on his behalf, Damon sat in the backseat, poring over a thick, detailed analysis of the financial statement of the Intercorp. He did not look up until the car glided to a stop beneath the green canopy at the entrance of the Century and a uniformed doorman appeared beside his window. Reluctantly, Damon put the report in his briefcase and got out.

The Century was a 42-story masterpiece, developed by Related Companies & designed by Robert A.M. Stern Architects, resided above 4 private acres of lush gardens with outdoor dining rooms, remarkable fountains, botanical walking paths, 75 ft. lap pool, resort cabanas, equinox design gym, palates studio, spa, yoga studio, screening room, dining room, bar lounges, wine cellar, and conference room.

"Good evening, Mr Salvatore," the doorman said politely as he escorted Damon to the elevator.

After he got inside the penthouse, Damon took off his jacket and tie, loosened the top buttons of his white shirt, and walked over to the bar in the living room, where he fixed himself a bourbon. He carried it past the fireplace to a pair of doors that opened out onto a balcony and stepped outside.

He had chosen this building, and this penthouse because it provided a unique, private, full floor, 360 degrees' panoramic views stretched from downtown LA across the Santa Monica Mountains to the Pacific Ocean. It had cost him more than twenty-five million last year but he believed the Century was a good investment and its value would go up substantially over the years.

Damon stood at the railing looking out across the city he had called home since he left Mystic Falls fourteen years ago. And he was suddenly struck by the enormous difference between the style of his departure from Mystic Falls fourteen years ago and that of his living today.

He had left Mystic Falls with Stefan by his pick-up truck fourteen years ago, carrying all his worldly possessions in a nylon duffel bag and wearing a pair of faded jeans, a T-shirt, and a pair of worn-out, scuffed boots. Today he was driving expensive cars, wearing a $7,000 Brioni suit, $600 Cole-Haan loafers, and carrying a $1,500 briefcase. He was as accustomed to VIP treatment wherever he went as he was to private jets, penthouse suites, and come-hither looks from glamorous women.

He thought back to that six-hour ride from Mystic Falls to Los Angeles and remembered it as clearly as if it were last week. On the day he left Mystic Falls Damon's practically only remaining possessions were the clothes he was wearing and some money to find a room for Stefan and him.

Beyond that, all he owned were the few items in his duffel bag—and his dreams. The duffel bag was small and plain, but his dreams were big and elaborate. Extremely big. Extraordinarily elaborate. He believed one day he would return to Mystic Falls someday, rich and powerful.

And now he was.

Lifting the glass to his mouth, Damon took a swallow of his drink, amused by the irony of the situation: today was certainly the ultimate realization of that long-ago fantasy, but it no longer mattered to him. He was so completely absorbed in other more far-reaching, significant issues that it didn't matter to him. He had proven himself, won out against all the odds, and yet he was still striving, still working incredible hours, still driving himself as hard as ever. Harder.

"When are you going to finally settle down?"

Stefan had asked him this question in the past few years for more than a hundred times.

Damon had been working eighteen hours a day for months in the past ten years. He and his business were inseparable. His last relationship, with Andie Starr, had failed for exactly that reason, and he hadn't changed since then, nor did he intend to. He was still married to his business, just as Andie had accused him of being. He still travelled a great deal, which had annoyed her, and he was still incapable of prolonged periods of unbroken laziness. No doubt, he was still the 'cold, callous, unfeeling son of a bitch' she had called him when they broke up. The point that she hadn't understood was that Damon was directly or indirectly responsible for the job security and investment security of more than a hundred thousand of Intercorp's employees.

He didn't blame Andie. It wasn't easy for a woman to understand his hectic work and travel schedule. For that matter, he wasn't particularly enthusiastic about a marriage that was doomed to failure before it began.

His thoughts returned to the woman he had encountered on the street last week. The woman who had been jilted by her fiancé.

Jesus, she was beautiful.

And she looked familiar. Her dark brown hair and her almond-coloured eyes definitely reminded him of…

Elena Gilbert.

A slow smile of pleasure worked its way across his face as he thought about the beguiling teenager with unforgettable brown eyes. She must have become a great doctor now and living a happy live with her husband and children. With her looks and wealth, her kindness and intelligence, he had assumed that she had enjoy all the best life had to offer. She should deserve that.

Damon glanced at his watch and saw that it was six-thirty. The Charity Ball's auction was scheduled to begin at eight p.m. That left him with more than an hour in which to shower, shave, and get dressed, which was more than he needed. He decided to phone Enzo and find out how things were progressing. He was very determined to get that piece of land in Mystic Falls.

x x x

With bright, artificial smiles affixed to their faces, Jessie and her boyfriend Tom stood off to one side of the Four Season Hotel's crowded lobby, struggling valiantly to appear to everyone as if everything were perfectly normal while she watched the revolving brass doors at the main entrance for a sign of Elena.

"The decorations are certainly lovely!" Tom remarked half-heartedly.

Jessie glanced with forced interest at the Four Season's lobby, the grand staircase, and the mezzanine. The main lights had been dimmed, and the entire hotel seemed to have been transformed into a dense forest of shadowy trees with tiny twinkling lights glittering among branches covered with artificial snow. Ice sculptures depicting medieval knights and their ladies adorned snow-covered "ponds," and waiters dressed in medieval attire, bearing pewter goblets of wine, skirted snowdrifts and moved among the crowd, while the Los Angeles Symphony Orchestra played "I Wonder What the King Is Doing Tonight."

"Elena said she would be here at seven-fifteen and it's seven-thirty," Jessie told Tom, "and Elena is never late."

"Maybe Alaric is trying to get a carpark." Tom slid his arm around her waist and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry. Everything's going to be fine, honey."

Jessie looked around the lobby and saw that the crowd was beginning to drift toward the mezzanine, where the main events were to take place. "Don't tell me she decided she just couldn't come, after all," she said. "Cancelling out at the last minute is the worst thing she could do."

"As a matter of fact," Tom said suddenly, "Elena has just arrived." He looked at Jessie with a smile and added, "And she's done it in grand style."

Baffled, Jessie turned. She saw Elena walking calmly through the crowd with her head high, seemingly unaware of the people who turned to stare at her. Alaric and Jo followed closely behind her. Jessie was so proud of her friend, and so startled by her appearance, that she temporarily forgot about Liam Davis and the broken engagement.

With a stunned smile of admiration, Jessie took in the full impact of Elena's ravishing blue silk halter evening gown. Instead of wearing her hair straight she normally wore her hair in, she had let it fall in a cascade of waves—its lustrous simplicity providing an enticing contrast to the sexy sophistication of the gown. Jessie gave Elena a fierce hug. "I was so afraid you had decided to stay home tonight," she whispered.

"She is strong," Jo reassured Jessie. "Elena never run away from anything in her life."

"Jo is right. I don't run away," Elena lied rreturning Jessie's hug and smiling reassuringly at the others. She was so nervous and so unhappy and so touched to see her friends waiting for her like an honour guard to see her through the ordeal that she felt perilously close to tears, and the evening wasn't even underway yet. "These things happen to lots of people. Engagements get broken and people marry other people instead. This is life."

"You are gorgeous," Tom said. "So is the gown."

"Thank you."

Alaric returned with two glasses. "Drink this," he instructed. "It will put some colour in your cheeks and give you a little courage."

Elena accepted the glass and took a few sips, then shook her head, trying to force herself to face a problem she had been avoiding. She knew what was going to happen an hour from now, when she walked into the ballroom with her friends. Some of the people at the ball tonight would be friends of hers, and they would definitely ask about Liam.

What her main concern was facing Liam and his parents. Both parents of Liam were well respected clinicians at the Cedars-Sinai Medical Centre. They would definitely attend the ball tonight. So would Nadia, Liam's fiancée.

"Finish your drink," Alaric insisted. "Two more swallows." Elena complied because compliance was easier and she needed to conserve all her strength to face the evening's ordeal.

"Well, we better go in," Jo said.

"You guys go in first," Elena said. "I want to go to the ladies. I will join you guys soon."

Everyone smiled at her as Elene turned to leave—everyone except Alaric Saltzman, who continued to stare at Elena's retreating form, his forehead wrinkled in a thoughtful frown. Finally, he turned to the others and announced in a dire tone, "Elena is acting strange."

"What do you mean?" Tom asked.

"She was dumped by her fiancé. How do you think she should act?" Jessie said.

"Elena is okay, I tell you, but she ought to have a vacation, just on principle," Jo pronounced, concluding the worrisome discussion. "She has been working much too hard for much too long. Once she has a nice vacation, she will be fine."

x x x

By the time Damon had made his way into the Four Season Hotel where the Charity Ball was scheduled to take place, at least a dozen people had nodded greetings at him and he had returned them without having the slightest idea who any of the people were. Ironically, when he finally did recognize two faces in the crowd, they belonged to the only two people who tried to _avoid_ greeting him—Mr. and Mrs. Klaus Mikaelson. In fact, they swept past him with their heads high and their eyes like shards of ice.

Mikaelson's Seaboard Industry was one of the main competitors of the Intercorp. Klaus Mikaelson, the eldest son of Mikael Mikaelson, founder of Seaboard Industry was now the CEO after Mikael had retired.

Damon paused outside the doorway of the room where the most expensive of the items to be auctioned were on display, and he heard his name being whispered occasionally as the patrons of the ball identified him. From his point of view, the Charity Ball fulfilled three distinct and different needs—the first was to provide an opportunity for the wives and daughters of the very rich to get together in elegant surroundings, to show off their newest jewels and latest gowns, and to gossip about each other while their husbands and fathers talked about their golf games and tennis matches.

The second purpose was to raise money for the hospital to build a new wing for the Emergency Department. The third was to offer Los Angeles' financially affluent and socially prominent citizens an opportunity to demonstrate their social consciousness by outbidding one another for dozens of extravagantly expensive items that were donated by other members of the financially affluent and socially prominent.

Tonight's Charity Ball was bound to be an unparalleled success in all aspects, Damon decided.

Armed security guards were positioned in front of the doors to the room where the auction items were on display, and Damon's head snapped up when he heard two women walking past him saying, "Did you know Liam Davis dump Elena Gilbert?"

"Yeah. Liam is now engaged with Nadia," the petite blond woman in a green dress said. "They are getting married after New Year."

"Oh, my God!" the other black woman exclaimed. "Liam is seeing Nadia behind Elena Gilbert and she isn't aware of it? How dump can she be?"

"I wonder how is she going to face Liam and Nadia tonight," the blond said.

"Poor Elena Gilbert," the black woman said.

Elena Gilbert? Were they referring the same Elena Gilbert he had known? Damon thought.

The doors to the ballroom where the banquet and auction were to take place were still closed, and Damon glanced impatiently at his watch, anxious to get in there and to get the whole thing over with. Since that was impossible, and since he had no desire to strike up a conversation with any of the people who seemed to be trying to catch his eye, he stepped into the shadow of a copse of trees, surrounded and obscured by their glittering branches, and lifted the glass of champagne to his lips. In the years since he had worked in Los Angeles, he had attended hundreds of black-tie affairs all over the world. He was frequently bored at them, but he was never uncomfortable.

From his vantage point inside the whimsical forest glade, he idly watched the crowd without consciously admitting to himself that he was watching specifically for a glimpse of Elena Gilbert…And then the crowd parted and he saw her, standing beside a wide pillar near the elevators about fifteen yards from him. It was the woman he met on the street last week. He looked at her for another moment. The hair, the eyes and the smile…A sharp jolt of recognition was immediately followed by relief and then pure masculine admiration as his gaze drifted over her. She was Elena Gilbert. The Elena Gilbert he knew back in Mystic Falls.

Draped in a gown of royal blue silk that clung to her full breasts and small waist, she moved serenely through the artificial twilight of a make-believe forest, untouched by the clamour and bustle all around her. She looked more beautiful now, Damon thought, but her hair was the same—heavy and lush, glistening like polished dark mahogany with red highlights beneath the light of the chandeliers. She belonged in striking gowns and glittering jewels, Damon decided. They suited her far better than the pleated pants and conservative blazers she wore in the past.

He stood in the shadow of the trees, admiring her surface beauty but far more intrigued by the indefinable, but unmistakable "presence" that made Elena stand out so clearly, even in the shifting kaleidoscope of movement and colour that swirled around her. It was as if everything and everyone except Elena was in motion, from the twinkling tree limbs shifting in the subtle currents of air conditioning, to the men and women who moved about in a blur of vivid hues and animated voices.

She was listening attentively to a woman who was speaking to her – a woman Damon didn't recognise. The woman moved away from her, and Damon stepped out of the shadow of the trees and stopped, willing her to look his way. He wanted her to recognize him; he wanted her to give him one of her unforgettable smiles and to come over to talk to him. He wanted all that with a surprising amount of anticipation. It was possible she wouldn't recognise him. She didn't recognise him on the street last week. He wasn't care whether anyone would recognise him tonight but now he realised how incongruous it was for him to suddenly want the satisfaction of having Elena Gilbert take notice of him tonight—or, more correctly, of the man he had become.

Elena was a staff at the hospital and in that case, there was a possibility that Elena had no idea whatsoever that Damon, the poor, outcast son of Giuseppe Salvatore - who had enjoyed her girlhood conversations and shared her sandwiches— was the same Damon who had been named Entrepreneur of the Year earlier this month by _Newsweek_ magazine. The ballroom doors were thrown open, and the entire crowd seemed to shift in unison, obscuring his view as people began making their way into the ballroom. Rather than have Elena disappear into the crowd or enter the ballroom through the doors closest to her before he could speak privately to her, Damon started toward her, but his progress was hampered by the surge of people moving in the opposite direction toward the ballroom. When he finally cleared the last human obstacle, only a hundred or so people were lingering on the mezzanine, but one of them was talking to Elena. It was a man in his early sixties with white hair.

Damon slowed to a stop and stood off to the side; then he raised his glass to his mouth, hoping the man would walk away. It seemed that he had wanted to escort her into the ballroom, but to Damon's relief, Elena refused.

"Go ahead without me," she told him. "I will be along in a minute. I want to get some fresh air first."

"I will go with you," the man offered.

"No, don't please," Elena told him. "I just need to be alone for a few moments."

"Okay, if you are sure that's what you want to do," the man said, sounding reluctant. "Don't be long," he added as he started toward the open ballroom doors. Elena nodded and turned, walking swiftly toward a door with an Exit sign above it.

Damon had enough experience with women to know when one was on the verge of tears, and since she had said she wanted to be alone, he felt he should allow her that privilege. He started to turn toward the ballroom, then stopped, assailed by an old memory - Elena telling him about her broken wrist.

 _"I didn't cry."_

 _"Really?"_

 _"Nope, not me. Not when I broke my wrist and not while Dr Fell was setting it last year."_

 _"Not even one tear?"_

 _"Not even one."_

 _"Good for you," he said._

 _"Not really." She sighed. "I fainted instead."_

As a child, she had been able to bravely hold back her tears of pain and fright, but tonight, as a woman, she was apparently hurt beyond all endurance. Damon hesitated, torn between the male's instinctive urge to avoid any scene involving a weeping woman - and a far less understandable impulse to offer her some sort of strength and support. The latter impulse was slightly stronger, and it won out: Damon headed slowly but purposefully for the doors beneath the Exit sign; then he made a brief detour for champagne, which he felt sure would buoy her up a little.

x x x

Outside, the long, narrow stone balcony was deserted and poorly lit by a few small, flickering gas lamps that created tiny pools of feeble yellowish light surrounded by dark shadows. In Elena's desolate mood, the lonely gloom of the balcony was infinitely preferable to the romantic excitement of the mythical forest that the decorations committee had created, and she was spared the painful irony of having to listen to the orchestra playing "Only you."

Hoping to be out of sight of anyone else who might decide to go outside, Elena turned right and walked as far away from the doors as possible, stopping only when she came to the point where the balcony ended at the corner of the building. Standing at the white stone balustrade, she flattened her palms on the cool white stone and bent her head, staring blindly at her splayed fingers, noticing how blank and plain her left hand looked without Liam's engagement ring on it.

Two stories below, a steady procession of headlights glided along the wide, tree lined boulevard in front of the hotel, but Elena was oblivious to everything except the bewildered desolation she felt. In the last few days, her emotions had veered between the lethargic helplessness she felt now and sudden bursts of angry energy that made her into a whirlwind of mindless activity. Either way, she still couldn't seem to absorb the reality that Liam had dumped her and now engaged to someone else. Only last month, they had talked about attending tonight's ball together and he had reminded her repeatedly to get a nice gown for the event.

Clearly Elena was not enough for Liam. That had to be true; otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to toss her aside as casually as he had toss out the trash. She wasn't enough for him, and the crushing humiliation of it made her stomach churn.

The bang of a metal door slamming closed made her look around in wary alarm toward a tall man in a tuxedo who had just emerged from the hotel. Her relief that he was apparently one of the ball's guests, rather than someone she knew, but was immediately supplanted by irritation that he was moving in her direction, instead of away. Cloaked in shadow and silence, he kept coming toward her, his step slow, purposeful. His arms were bent at the elbows, and he was holding something in each hand. For a split second her fevered imagination conjured up a pair of revolvers in those hands; then he passed through a pool of gaslight and Elena saw that in his hands he was holding…

Two glasses of champagne.

She gaped at them, and then at him as he closed the remaining distance between them. At close range, he was easily five feet ten inches tall, with wide shoulders and high cheek bones and straight, thick dark brows. She couldn't recognise the face, but his eyes were blue and disconcertingly amused as they gazed into hers.

"Hello, Elena," he said, in a deep, resonant voice.

Elena tried to smooth her features into a semblance of polite confusion when what she wanted to do was stamp her foot and tell him to go away. Good manners, however, had been fed to her along with baby pabulum and she was incapable of unprovoked rudeness.

"I'm sorry," she said, monitoring her voice for signs of impatience, "If we have met, I don't recall it."

"We have definitely met," he assured her dryly. "Many times, in fact." He held out a glass to her. "Champagne?"

Elena refused it with a shake of her head as she studied his face. He did look familiar but she couldn't find a name. Maybe he was one of the patients she had treated in the past. "I don't think we have," she said with polite firmness. "Perhaps you are mistaking me for someone else."

"I would never mistake you for anyone else," he teased. "Did you manage to get home okay last week?"

"Last week?" she uttered, confused. "Did we meet last week?"

"You didn't want a ride last week." The stern line of his mouth relaxed into a lazy smile. "You said you needed a moment by yourself."

"You are the man I met on the street last week!" she breathed.

Damon frowned. "We didn't meet last week. We have known each other for a very long time, Elena."

"What?"

"Have you forgotten about your best friend, sweetie?" he teased, his blue eyes smiling down at her.

Elena recognised him. "Damon!"

She hadn't expected to see him appear at tonight's function. She couldn't seem to adjust to the shock of seeing him again after all these years.

Damon saw the pleasure that lit up her face when she recognized him, and it warmed him with astonishing intensity, softening for a few brief moments the cold, hard streak of cynical indifference that was his norm. Regardless of what the Donovans may have told her about the reason for his abrupt departure from Mystic Falls, regardless of the intervening years, Elena Gilbert's friendship for him was still there, unspoiled and unchanged.

"Damon? Is it really you?" Elena said, still reeling from shock and delight.

"In the flesh. More accurately, in the tuxedo," he joked, holding the glass of champagne toward her again. She hadn't wanted it from a stranger, he noted, but she took it from an old friend, and as he gazed down at her lovely, upturned face, he was flattered and pleased. "I think this calls for a toast, Miss Gilbert."

"Make the toast," she said. "I'm still too shocked to think of one."

He lifted the glass. "Here's to the luckiest woman I know."

Elena's smile faded and she shuddered but she quickly tried to pass off her reaction with a casual shrug. "Well, being single is considered lucky nowadays…"

"What could possibly be luckier than narrowly escaping marriage to a spineless son of a bitch?"

That remark was so outrageous and so unquestioningly loyal that Elena felt twin urges to laugh and cry. "You are right," she said instead. To avoid his gaze, she took a quick sip of her champagne; then she hastily changed the subject. "I have so many questions to ask you - about where you have been and what you have done - that I hardly know where to start."

"Let's start with the most important question," he interrupted firmly, making Elena feel like a child again, confronting a much older, wiser male. "How are you holding up through all this?"

Elena knew he meant about her broken engagement. "I'm doing just fine," she said, frustrated by the slight quaver in her voice. She thought she heard the door open further down the balcony, and she lowered her voice in case someone had come out. "Fine."

He narrowed his eyes. "Sure?"

"Sure," she said as she forced a smile on her face. "It is his lost, not mine. I deserve…" Her voice trailed off as she saw Liam and Nadia walking towards her direction.

Damon glanced over his shoulder. "You know these people?"

She nodded. "Liam and Nadia."

"Oh." Damon's first impulse was to attack Liam; his next impulse was to make him feel bad for losing Elena. Damon decided on the second alternative for the moment. With his free hand, he reached out and tipped up Elena's chin. "Listen carefully, and don't move."

Her eyes widened in instant alarm.

"I suggest we take a little revenge on that spineless son of bitch."

"What?" Elena whispered in panic. "Are you crazy?"

"No, I'm doing this for you, sweetie." He continued while, from the corner of his eye, he watched Liam and Nadia heading their direction. "You have a choice. You can let the world think of you as a discarded woman, or you can let them see me kissing you, which will make them wonder if you ever cared about Liam at all and if I have been your lover all along."

Elena's mind was whirling with alarm and horror and glee, as well as the effects of two drinks in less than an hour on an empty stomach. In the brief moment, she hesitated, Damon made the decision for her. "Let's make it convincing," he ordered softly as he set down both of their glasses. His free hand then slid around her waist, curving her body into his arms.

It happened too quickly to resist, and then it seemed to happen in slow motion as Elena felt her legs press into his thighs and her breasts against his chest, followed by the sudden shock of his warm lips covering hers.

He lifted his head a fraction, his eyes looking into hers, and she thought he was going to let her go. She had the feeling he intended to let her go. Instead, his hands shifted, one of them drifting upward over her bare back, while the other tightened, and he bent his head again. Elena's heart began to pound in erratic, confused beats as his mouth settled firmly on hers, slowly tracing each soft curve and contour of her lips. His tongue touched the corner of her mouth, and her body jumped in surprise. One part of her brain ordered her to pull free immediately, but some deeper, more compelling voice rebelled at such an unjust reaction to his gallant efforts.

His tender efforts. His persuasive efforts.

Besides, she wanted to make Liam jealous. She wanted him to know it was his mistake to dump her. As a result Elena acted on her impulse as she slid her hands up his jacket and tentatively, uncertainly kissed him back. The pressure of his mouth increased invitingly as his hand slid up and curved around her nape, his fingers shoving into her hair.

A loud burst of music and thunder of applause inside the ballroom announced that the formal festivities were already underway in the ballroom and snapped them both back to the present. Elena pulled away with a self-conscious laugh, and he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, gazing down at her with his dark brows drawn into a slight frown. Damon looked to see if Liam and Nadia were still present and was glad to see that the couples had left.

"I…I can't believe we did that," Elena said nervously, trying to smooth her hair as they walked toward the door into the hotel.

He shot her a sideways glance that was filled with a meaning she didn't understand. "Actually, I wanted to do that years ago," he said, reaching out and opening the heavy door for her.

"You did not." Elena rolled her eyes in smiling disbelief.

"The hell I didn't," he said with a grin.

Inside, the mezzanine was nearly deserted. Conscious of missing lipstick and mussed hair, Elena stopped when they came to an alcove where the rest rooms were located. "I need to make some repairs," she explained. "Go ahead without me."

"I will wait," Damon stated irrefutably, and he stationed himself at a nearby pillar.

Startled by his gallant determination to stay near her side, Elena tossed him a hesitant smile and vanished into the ladies' room. She exhaled deeply as she walked up to the dressing table to smooth her hair. Damon had kissed her and she had kissed him back! What was wrong with her?

She gripped the edges of the white pedestal sink and stared at herself in the mirror. She winced at the sight of her reflection as she realised she look a little too pink.

 _Get a grip, Elena Gilbert,_ she said to herself. The kiss didn't mean anything. Damon had gallantly come to her rescue tonight. But just the thought of Damon's long, lean body made her flush hotly. _He treated you like a sister,_ she added silently. _Don't get the wrong idea._

She squared her shoulders, opened the door, and stepped out of the ladies' room.

Damon smiled warmly at her as she approached him. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered shakily.

He put his hand beneath her elbow, and escorted her inside the ballroom.

In the ballroom, polite applause heralded the end of the opening speech. Damon escorted Elena to her table where her friends were seated. He nodded politely to everyone, but winked at Elena and briefly touched her shoulder, then strode off to his own table in the front row.

Elena watched him for a moment, impressed and amused by his supreme indifference to the excited curiosity his appearance was generating. Keeping her expression pleasant and neutral, she looked at Jo and Alaric, who were seated across from her to the left; then she glanced to the right at Jessie. Her eyes were filled with questions. They were all dying of curiosity, Elena realized. But she was glad the second speech had started before her friends started throwing questions to her. And to her intense relief, the waiters began serving the first course of the dinner after the second speech had concluded.

She could hardly believe the forceful, sophisticated male in the elegant black tuxedo who had escorted her tonight was actually the same jean-clad youth who had talked with her while he helped her mum fixing a leaking pipe…and teased her while he made beef burgers.

The years had not mellowed Damon, she thought a little sadly, just the opposite. As a youth, he'd had an aura of hard-bitten strength, but he had seemed approachable and kind, even gentle at times. Now there was a cynical edge to his voice and a coldness in his eyes— she had witnessed both when she objected to entering the ballroom with him. He was battle-hardened, toughened. But he was still kind, she reminded herself. When Liam and Nadia had appeared on the balcony, he was kind enough to rush to her rescue. He was also quick enough and smart enough to instantly devise a plan that turned a negative situation into one that would work in her favour. To accomplish that, he had kissed her…

Elena's hand shook as she reached for her wineglass and took a hasty swallow. She should never have let that happen! What a foolish, uncharacteristically impulsive thing for her to do. And what a kiss! Soft at first…awkward for her as she came into unexpected closeness with the legs and chest and mouth of a stranger - an old friend, whose mouth had covered hers with casual expertise and then with teasing insistence…and then with increasing demand. He had lifted his head, ended the kiss, stared into her eyes… and then he had kissed her again…almost reluctantly, and then almost…hungrily.

Her cheeks reddened with embarrassed heat when she thought about the kiss, and she drained the rest of the chardonnay, trying to steady her nerves. She shouldn't have let that second kiss happen. Other women got jilted, and _they_ didn't throw themselves into the arms of the first available man who offered sympathy.

Or did they?

Now that she thought about it, maybe they did!

In fact, now that she thought about it, she realized she was overreacting to everything and making far too much out of a simple, meaningless kiss enacted purely for the benefit of getting back to Liam. While she was obsessing on a kiss, Damon had probably forgotten the entire trivial incident.

 _Get a grip, girl,_ she told herself again. _The kiss didn't mean anything._

She suffered through the entire dinner and she couldn't wait to get out of there. The auction was well underway.

"Hey sweetie." Damon came up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Are you going to introduce your friend to us, Elena?" Jo asked before she could respond.

"Damon Salvatore," Damon answered.

"Salvatore." Jessie frowned a little in polite concentration. "Name sounds familiar. Any relation to the Intercorp?"

"Some."

Tom gaped at Damon. "Damon Salvatore of Intercorp?"

Damon looked amused. "Yes."

"I'm Tom Sanders." Tom stood up and offered his hand. "This is, indeed, a pleasure. This is Jessie, my girlfriend. She works with Elena. They are buddies." He bestowed a dazzling smile on Damon. "I have read the latest issue of _Newsweek_. Very well written. How do you feel about being named the Entrepreneur of the Year?"

 _Damn, I didn't need this,_ Elena thought.

"I'm flattered," Damon replied, stealing a glance at Elena and then reluctantly turning his attention to Tom. For some reason, she looked tenser now than she had an hour ago.

Elena got to her feet. "I need to use the ladies."

With that she turned and left the table.

"Have you done any bidding yet tonight?" Tom asked, obviously keen to continue his conversation with Damon. "Would you like to have something to drink? Perhaps we could talk…"

Damon cut him off with a shake of his head with a politely regretful smile. "Sorry, I need to go. Nice meeting you, Tom and everyone," he added; then he stepped around behind him and out of the table.

x x x

Elena was halfway across the ballroom when Liam came to a halt in front of her. "What the hell do you think you are doing, Elena?"

"I don't understand what you are talking about."

"Why are you with Damon Salvatore?" Liam's face was suffused with an angry red colour. "Mother said he is a playboy. God knows how many women he has slept with!"

Elena's jaw tightened. "Damon is an old friend of mine. I like him." She stabbed her finger against his elegantly knotted white silk tie. "Let me tell you something, Liam Davis. You have no rights to interfere with who I go out with. We are over. It's over. Period."

"Damn it! You are doing this on purpose, aren't you?" Liam's voice was choked with outrage. "This is your revenge, right?"

"I swear to God you will be sorry if you touch her," Damon said from the shadows behind Liam.

"Salvatore." Liam jerked around to face Damon and then took another hasty step back. If you touch me, I will file charges."

Alarmed by the glint of predatory anticipation in Damon's eyes, Elena stepped quickly between the two men. "That's enough, Damon. Everything is under control."

"I know, but it would be sort of fun to bounce him around a little. Please?"

"I'm serious," she said. "I do not want anyone hurt here."

Damon held her arm gently. "You and I are leaving. Now." Then he looked at Liam coldly. "Stay away from her."

Without warning, he maintained a possessive hold on her arm and steered her out of the ballroom.

Elena, off balance, with her fingers now trapped under his elbow, had to run a few steps to avoid being dragged.

"Damon."

"Sorry." He slowed to a normal pace. "You okay?"

"Of course I'm okay." She shoved her hair out of her eyes and yanked hard on her gown. "Let's get out of here."

"I'm with you. I will just drop a cheque to the hospital instead of bidding on those horrible stuffs. The speeches are boring and the food is bad."

For some inexplicable reason she started to laugh.


	6. Chapter 6

With the exception of a few stray chuckles, she had herself under control by the time they got outside. Damon's limousine was waiting at the main entrance.

"Where are we going?" Elena asked as he led her towards the limousine. In the time it took to reach the limousine, she began to feel distinctly lightheaded and a little giddy. She probably had too much to drink tonight, she realised. Normally she would only restrict herself to two drinks a day. For days, she had hidden her private pain over her break up with Liam. On top of that, she'd had to brace herself to face the nightmare of this charity ball… but the ball was suddenly over, and it hadn't been a nightmare because Damon had appeared and rushed to her rescue.

The abrupt, unexpected release of so much pressure and stress came as a shock to her entire nervous system. She felt weightless without the heavy emotional armour she'd had to wear for nearly a week. Buoyant.

"Out of here," Damon replied as he slipped inside the limousine after Elena. "The ball is boring."

Two bottles of Dom Perignon were reclining in sterling ice buckets beside the car's liquor cabinet.

"Champagne." She slanted him a quick glance. "What's the occasion?"

"Celebration. You have just been dumped by the scum of the earth."

Elena's jaw dropped. She stared at him in angry shock. And then she burst out laughing.

Damon's answering chuckle was rich and deep as lifted a bottle of champagne from the ice buckets, and poured some champagne into an unused glass. "A toast to Elena Gilbert," he grinned as he handed her the glass. 'The luckiest woman on earth."

"I'm the luckiest woman," she said, laughing as she took the glass and tossed the champagne down. It felt better and better to laugh. Tomorrow, reality would crush her again like a boulder, but for tonight, Damon and the alcohol were all combining to provide an unexpected respite from the misery, and she was determined to enjoy it.

"Are you sure you don't want me to bounce that scum around a bit?"

A little dizzy from the champagne, Elena felt an inappropriate urge to giggle at his suggestion. "It really was sweet of you to offer to beat Liam up for me."

"That's me, a real sweet guy," Damon said with a grin.

She sighed and sank into the rich leather seat. "I really shouldn't disappear from the ball like this, particularly not with you, not with…"

"Why not with me, in particular?" he asked coolly.

"I'm not sure you have realized the jeopardy you have put your own reputation in by coming to my rescue. You definitely don't need lawsuits."

He felt a sudden urge to laugh. "You are worried about my reputation?"

"Of course I am," Elena said primly. "You are rich and famous now."

"I don't care what people think about me." _Except you_ , he added silently. "You can't stop people talking behind your back."

She pursed her lips. "I know."

"What's with the sudden depression here? Cheer up, sweetie."

She rested her head on the seat and closed her eyes. "I have accepted what happened between Liam and me as being final, but I feel…furious. I feel furious and humiliated."

"Of course you do," he said softly.

"I wish I could just go away until all this dies down but I can't. People will say I run away because I was heartbroken."

"They will think that no matter what you do."

"I hate when that happens."

"Damn. You have lost the sparkle. But don't worry, sweetie. I have a sure-fire cure for what ails you."

She turned her head on the back of the seat and studied his hard profile from beneath lowered lashes. It felt good to be here with him in the intimate confines of the limousine. She wondered what her friends would say if they knew where she was tonight.

For some reason the answer did not matter at that moment.

"What's the cure?" she asked softly.

A wicked expression flickered across his face. "Come home with me, sweetie and I will show you."

x x x

"This is your home?" Elena asked as the elevator stopped and the doors opened into the penthouse's black marble foyer.

He nodded. Instead of getting out, Damon braced his hand against the door to prevent it from closing.

"It must cost a fortune," Elena said, stepping out of the elevator and into the private vestibule of his penthouse.

"I bought it for twenty-six million," he said as they entered the suite's living room and he switched on the tiny lights concealed in the cove of the ceiling. "But the value has gone up since."

Elena gaped at him. "Twenty-six million?"

He glanced over his shoulder at Elena, who had stopped near the coffee table in the middle of the living room. She was watching him, her head tipped to one side, her expression stunned.

"It is a good investment," he said lightly. He walked over to the bar and removed a bottle of bourbon. "It is worth it."

"You have done it," she whispered.

He poured the liquor into two glasses filled with ice. "Done what?"

"You are a multi-billionaire!" she exclaimed. "That's what you said. You want to become rich when you grow up."

Elena watched him unbutton his tuxedo jacket and loosen his bow tie; then with a glass in each hand, he walked towards her and handed her the drink he had poured.

"You remember what I said?" Damon asked, inordinately pleased that she had apparently remembered their conversation years ago.

"Yeah, I do. You did it. You are rich now."

"And you are a doctor now."

She smiled at him but the smile was replaced by grimace after she took a sip of the bourbon. He chuckled, "bourbon is strong."

She coughed and made a face. "It is strong. This is my first time trying it."

"Now, that," Damon said with a grin, "is a first. In fact, I have a feeling tonight is going to be a night of several firsts."

"Firsts?" she repeated. "What is there that you haven't done until tonight?"

"For starters," he said, "I have never stood outside on the balcony of this penthouse with a woman. Shall we make that another first?"

He flipped a wall switch, which made the heavy draperies in front of the balcony doors glide apart. Superimposed over that image was a memory of him in faded jeans and shirt, changing the light bulb for her table lamp while he carried on a conversation with her. Even then, he had always seemed to be doing several things at once. He stepped aside, waiting for her to precede him onto the balcony.

He had noticed her smile as he opened the balcony doors. "Have I done something amusing?"

Elena shook her head. "I was just thinking that, even in the old days, you always seemed to be able to do several things at the same time and completely effortlessly. I always admired that."

The compliment was so surprising to Damon, and so pleasing, that he couldn't think of a reply, and so he watched in silence as she stepped past him onto the patio.

Walking over to the railing, Elena gazed out at the glittering carpet of Los Angeles lights far below while soft music drifted from the stereo in the living room and her mind drifted inexorably to Liam.

Damon joined her, but angled his body so that he was facing her, with his elbow propped on the railing. "I hope you are thinking of that scum of earth, and not me, with that woebegone expression on your face."

Chafed at having been described as woebegone, Elena proudly lifted her chin. "It is Liam's loss. Not mine."

Instead of replying, Damon merely raised his brows and regarded her in sceptical silence, managing to convey not only his disbelief but also his disappointment in her obvious unwillingness to confide in him. After the way he'd come to her rescue tonight, Elena knew he deserved more than a brush-off for an answer. "That was a lie," she conceded with a shaky sigh. "I'm angry at him. He was seeing another woman behind my back. I'm mad."

"I understand," Damon said with amused sympathy. "That's why he is the scum of the earth."

That last remark startled a shriek of laughter from her.

Damon grinned as he slid his arm around her, pulling her close to his side. The soft, fine fabric of his jacket brushed her bare skin as he curved his arm around her shoulders, his fingers sliding warmly up and down her arm. It was still nice to know that someone—someone tall and handsome and very special— seemed to find her appealing enough to want to spend time with her tonight. Appealing and worthwhile. Not like Liam, who'd— She lifted the glass to her mouth and took a long swallow to chase away the thoughts of Liam.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"For what?"

"For making me laugh."

"Did I tell you how good you look in that gown? You look fantastic in it."

"You look good in a tuxedo too."

"Do I look good enough to impress you to dance with me?" he challenged, positively exuding sophisticated charm.

Her eyes widened. "Here?"

"Why don't we go back inside?" Without waiting for an answer, he took her elbow and propelled her inside the living room.

"Are you serious?" She laughed and it sounded loud in the still night. "I haven't danced in years."

"I suggest you have something to drink first." He stopped at the bar and poured more bourbon into their glasses. "Alcohol acts as an anaesthetic," he told Elena with a grin as he handed her the glass, "and dancing with me could be a painful and dangerous experience."

She took another sip of the bourbon, but he shook his head. "Finish it."

"Are you really that worried about stepping on my feet?" she asked, laughing.

"Certainly not," he teased. "I'm worried that you will be so tense and stiff that you will step on my feet."

With a laugh, she drained the glass and tucked her hand through his arm, drawing him close in an unconscious gesture that seemed a little possessive to Damon and he was pleased immensely.

When he took her into his arms and began to move, very slowly, to the very slow music, Elena gazed up at him, her features soft and warm with gratitude. "Damon?"

He returned her smile, but the blue eyes that regarded her from beneath half-lowered lids seemed preoccupied, thoughtful. "Hmmm?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you are very sweet and very gallant?"

"Certainly not. Generally, I'm described as cold, calculating, and ruthless."

Elena was aghast at the injustice of that. With her heart filled with gratitude and her head swimming from all the wine and champagne she had drunk, Damon Salvatore seemed completely wonderful and omnipotent—a mighty defender who had charged to her rescue and saved her from humiliation. He was gallantry and daring in a world filled with cowardice and malice. "How could people possibly think such awful things about you?"

"Because they are completely true," he stated with calm finality.

Elena's reply was an irrepressible giggle. "Liar."

He looked stung. "Now, that is one thing I am not."

"Oh." Trying unsuccessfully to bite back a smile, she decided he was joking because he was embarrassed by her praise, and she switched the topic. "Where's Stefan? How is he doing?"

"Stefan is prosecutor in Washington D.C. He and his wife, Lexi are expecting their first child after Easter."

"How wonderful! What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you seeing someone?"

"No."

"Have you ever been married before?"

"No. Have you?" he added, teasing.

"No." Gloom settled on her, darker than fog. "I thought I was going to."

They danced for another moment or two. Then he brought her to a halt near the window.

His right hand left her arm and came to rest lightly against the side of her face, tipping it up to his. "Someday, you will meet the lucky guy who will see what a rare treasure you are."

"I will?"

"You will."

x x x

 _I will…I will…_

 _I'm dreaming, she thought. This must be a dream._

 _In her dream, the two words were overlaid by the waltz that was playing in the distance and the shadowy, indefinable presence of a dark male, a looming, powerful figure that she sensed in her dream but could not see. His presence gave her twin sensations of being in grave danger and of being safe; the voice she heard was not his voice, and yet he seemed to control her answers._

 _"I will?"_

 _"You will."_

 _She tilted her head back but she couldn't see his face._

 _Her hands were on his shoulders, and she pulled him closer, watching his eyes begin to smoulder. "No."_

 _"Yes," she whispered._

 _She was in control as his mouth covered hers, exploring… tantalizing, then slowly opening on hers, urging her lips to part, his tongue probing between them, forcing entrance._

 _He could kiss and, as the aching desire of the present wrapped up with the steamy memory of her dreams, her body practically trembled with need._

 _"Stay with me tonight," she whispered against his mouth._

 _"No."_

 _She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Yes." Then she covered her mouth over his and lost herself in the kiss._

 _As his tongue brushed hers and their breath mingled, she unbuttoned his shirt and then slid her fingertips under his, feeling the solid muscles twitch under her touch._

 _Then his hands were on her shoulders, sliding her gown off, and she let it go so it could drop to the floor. She dropped her bra after it. His gaze raked over her, the look in his eyes as smouldering hot as his touch._

 _His shirt joined hers at their feet as he stripped down to just his pants and then, before she was quite finished admiring the broad expanse of naked chest, his hands and mouth were on her again. When he lifted her off the ground, she wrapped her legs around his waist and held on to his neck._

 _His kiss grew more urgent and she couldn't stop her moan when he backed her up against the door. With the cool wood against her skin and his hips between her thighs, her body trembled in anticipation._

 _He licked his way down to her breasts, where his tongue flicked across one nipple, and then the other. "You are so…freaking…hot."_

 _She didn't want to talk. She wanted those hips moving against hers as they had while they danced in the moonlight, but without any clothes between them._

 _As if he could read her thoughts, he turned and started toward the bed. She laughed when he dropped her onto the mattress, but the sound died in her throat when he dropped his pants and boxer briefs in one smooth motion._

 _Oh yes, staying was definitely the right decision._

 _Ten minutes later, he had her naked too, and so desperate she was horrified when a frustrated growling sound tore from her throat. He only chuckled and kept right on teasing her—kissing and licking and touching her, but never quite enough to give her what her body yearned for._

 _Finally, just about the time she was sure she would go mad, she heard the tell-tale crinkle of a condom wrapper being torn open._

 _He settled himself between her thighs and rested his weight on his forearms so he could look down at her. His smile was warm, but his face was flushed and naughtiness lurked in his gaze._

 _For a second she thought he was going to tease her some more, which might make her scream, but he kissed her instead. She threaded her fingers through his hair as he reached one hand down between their bodies and finally gave her what she wanted._

 _They both moaned as he slid into her, the sound mingling on their joined lips. He moved slowly, with short, gentle strokes and she raised her hips to meet them. She savoured the sweet friction of every thrust as he murmured in her ear—telling her how hot she was and how amazing it felt and how he never wanted it to end._

 _Then it began—the slow, demanding thrusts that steadily increased in power and force, driving her to a terrifying precipice. She fought it, tried to recoil from it._

 _He knew she was fighting her own desire, but he wouldn't leave her alone. Wrapping his arms around her, he rolled onto his back, his body still joined fiercely to hers. He curved his hands around her hips, forcing her into a tempo that made her forget that her hair was a tangled mess and her breasts were too small and her hip had a scar on the side of it._

 _She rode him and rode him because he wouldn't let her stop. Because she couldn't stop. Didn't want to stop. Wild now. She was wild and sobbing with need, and his hips were moving with hers, hands caressing her breasts, fingers squeezing her taut nipples. She cried out as explosions racked her body, and he arched his back while deep spasms drove him higher and deeper into her._

 _The bed crashed to earth, rocking her violently off him; his arms wrapped tightly around her, holding her, while blue lights flew past the windows with dizzying speed. Eerie lights._

 _Blue lights… revolving around and around… spinning past._

Elena tossed her head on the pillow, afraid of the lights, trying to escape the clutches of him who had taken much more than she meant to offer.

She tried to turn and run, but she couldn't. Terrifying faces were staring at her, bloody arms reaching out to her. She couldn't move because he was still holding her tightly. He wouldn't let her go. The demon wanted her. She was in hell!

In her dream, Elena screamed with fear, but the actual sound was only a parched whisper: "No!"

Propelled by terror, Elena broke free of the nightmare and opened her eyes. Pain stabbed through the sockets of her eyes and embedded itself in her brain as she blinked dazedly at a spacious, but wholly unfamiliar bedroom. The sound of a door opening made her jerk her chin in that direction, which caused the pain to worsen, the room to revolve, and her stomach to lurch alarmingly. A man whom she suddenly identified as Damon Salvatore was strolling into her bedroom as casually as if he had a right to be there.

"Easy now," he told her in an amused voice as he moved toward her with a tray in his hand. "Don't make any sudden movement."

She couldn't seem to think beyond the misery of her entire body. She tried to speak, but all that came out was a small croak. She swallowed and tried again. "What…happened to me?"

"You had too much to drink last night. You were drunk," he said with a cheerful sympathy as he put the tray on the nightstand. "You are having a bad hangover."

"Why?" Elena whispered, closing her eyes against the glare of bright orange liquid in a tall glass on the nightstand.

"Too much bourbon."

"Why?" she said again. She wanted to know why she was here, why he was here, and why she would make herself drunk, but her brain and her mouth refused to function properly.

Instead of answering, he sat down on the bed, causing her to moan aloud when the mattress shifted and she rolled a little sideways. "Don't try to talk," he said with stern authority that contrasted with the gentleness in his movements as he slid his left arm beneath her shoulders, lifting her slightly upright. "This is aspirin," he said, giving her two white tablets. Her hand shook as she took them from him and pressed them awkwardly between her lips. "And this," he added as he lifted the glass of orange liquid from the tray and held it toward her lips, tipping it carefully so she could drink, "is orange juice with a little 'hair-of-the-dog.'"

Elena's stomach lurched violently at the thought of dog hairs in her orange juice, but before she could react, he tipped it up, forcing her to swallow; then he eased her back down onto the pillows. "Go back to sleep," he said gently as her eyes closed. "You will feel much better when I wake you up later."

Something cold and soothing was pressed against her forehead. A washcloth.

Damon was a kind, caring man, she thought. She needed to tell him that. "Thank you for helping me," she murmured as his weight lifted from the mattress and he stood up.

"As your best friend, I consider it my duty to nurse you through any and all hangovers."

"You are very nice."

"I was hoping you would still think so later today, but I had some doubts."

The carpet muffled his footsteps as he walked away, and she heard the door close softly behind him as she lay there, waiting for the anaesthesia of sleep. For several moments, his parting remarks were merely a baffling joke she tried to ignore, but they'd evoked stubborn images that began marching insistently behind her aching eyes. She remembered being at the charity ball and drinking wine and champagne… and seeing Damon again, and more champagne. She remembered going up to Damon's penthouse and bourbon… and standing outside on the balcony… and she drank more bourbon. She remembered dancing with Damon…she was in his arms.

She felt safe…then sleep crept over her.

x x x

When Elena awakened again, someone had opened the heavy draperies, letting filtered sunlight into the room through the filmy sheers, and a telephone was ringing somewhere in the distance.

For several moments, she lay perfectly still, her eyes closed, taking cautious mental inventory of her body's condition, afraid to move lest her nerves begin to jangle and her head pound as it had earlier. She still felt shaky and her head still ached, but her skull no longer felt as if it were going to split in half.

Then she smelled the exquisite aromas. Reality returned. _She was not in her own apartment. She had spent the night at Damon's penthouse._

She was drunk. She had made a fool out of herself in front of Damon. And he had to nurse her through the hangover.

 _This was so embarrassing,_ she thought. She wanted to find a hole and hide herself in it.

How was she going to face Damon afterwards?

Rolling over, she shoved back the sheets and was surprised to discover that she was naked. Considering how inebriated she had been last night, it was amazing that she had managed to unfasten her gown and get undressed herself. It occurred to her that Damon might have had to undress her, but that mortifying possibility was more than she could bear to contemplate at the moment. It was then that Elena realized she had nothing to wear except the blue silk gown she'd worn last night. She couldn't phone her friends and ask them to bring clothes to Damon's penthouse, because she didn't want to explain about this whole escapade while she was in Damon's place. With a sigh of resignation, Elena climbed out of bed.

Damon looked up when she emerged from the bedroom with her hair still wet from her shower and her slender body completely engulfed in one of his thick terry-cloth robes. Her bare toes peeped from beneath the hem of the robe, which should have stopped at mid-calf, and the shoulder seams fell to her elbows. Last night, Damon had thought she couldn't possibly look more desirable than she had in that provocative purple gown, but he had been wrong. Wrapped in an oversize robe, with her face scrubbed free of makeup and her thick russet hair falling damply at her neck Elena Gilbert had the dewy freshness of a rose at dawn.

He laid the newspaper on the coffee table and stood up. "You are looking better," he told her.

She gave him a weak smile. "I think I will survive."

Chuckling at her quip, he gestured toward a linen-covered table laden with platters of food. "Have something to eat."

She stared at the amount of food on the table. There were French toasts, omelette, muffins, pancakes, eggs benedict, scones, crumpets and waffles, and also a mixture of fresh fruits. "What's all this food for?" she asked

"It's Christmas. We are having a brunch for Christmas."

"I'm not that hungry."

Ignoring her protest, Damon walked over to the table and pulled out a chair for her. "You have to eat."

She sighed, but she padded over to the table, slid into the chair, and unfolded her napkin.

"How do you feel?" Damon inquired, sitting down across from her.

"The same way I look." As she spoke, the oversize robe slipped off her left shoulder, leaving it bare, and she pulled it back in place.

"That good?" he teased.

The warmth in his deep voice and the bold admiration in his eyes did astonishing things to Elena's heartbeat, a reaction that was so unexpected and so strong that her cheeks grew hot. With a faint smile, she quickly dropped her gaze from his and reached for a slice of watermelon.

"Why aren't you eating?"

"I said I'm not hungry."

"Finish your watermelon and have some orange juice and a little of that omelette."

She gazed at the two items and shuddered a little. "Everything looks so…so yellow. The egg and the orange juice. The colour is hurting my eyes."

"That's what happens when you drink too much."

"Thank you for that unnecessary lecture on a subject for which I have known it since I started medical school."

"You are welcome," Damon said with unshakable good humour. "Eat some toast. It's brown, so it shouldn't hurt your eyes."

She picked up a piece of French toast and took a bite. "God, this is delicious. Where did you buy them from?"

He shot her a wicked grin. "I cooked them this morning while you were still asleep."

She paused with a bite of French toast poised in mid-air. "You cooked all these?"

"Hmm, hmm. Have you forgotten that I used to work in the kitchen at the Grill? My lessons stuck and I learned to enjoy it."

Initially she thought she couldn't keep anything down but she realised she was hungry because she had hardly eaten her dinner last night. She savoured another bite of the French toast. "I thought you are too busy to cook since you have your own business."

He picked up his coffee. "I don't cook normally. But today is different."

"I still can't cook." She winced, remembering two episodes where she had tried to cook. Both had been a nightmare, one episode triggering the fire alarms because of the smoke.

He shovelled in the egg benedict. "It doesn't matter. Find a man who can cook for you."

"You think it is that easy?"

Damon took a slug of his coffee and lowered the mug to the table, shooting her an amused glance. "Will I do?"

Rolling her eyes, Elena continued eating her French toast. "Not funny."

Unable to suppress his grin, he nodded at the waffles in front of her. "Try some of the waffles. They are pretty good too."

She reached for the waffle and looked at him. With a wicked smile she asked darkly, "Are you planning to be a nag?"

"I think that's supposed to be my line."

"Really?"

"Mmm." he confirmed. "Wives nag."

"What do husbands do?"

He gave her a look of deliberate superiority. "Husbands command."

She threw her head back and laughed. He grinned back at her as he reached for a slide of the French toast. He was enjoying Elena's company immensely. He could not remember the last time he had responded to a woman this way. _Never,_ he concluded.

Was the brunch especially delicious, or was it Damon's happiness that made it seem to be? They chatted continually. The brunch stretched over two hours.

Elena dropped her fork and napkin onto the empty plate and picked up her orange juice. It was the best brunch she'd had in a while. Damon was pretty talented in his cooking skill. He was intelligent, funny and caring. She recalled how he had nursed her through her hangover earlier. She couldn't imagine how embarrassing it must be last night when she was drunk.

"What's wrong?" he said gently.

"Tell me the truth - when I was drunk, did I make a fool out of myself?"

"You sounded happy and like you'd possibly had a little to drink," Damon said diplomatically, "but you certainly didn't look like a fool."

"A little too much?" Elena repeated with shame. "I was disgustingly drunk!"

"You weren't disgusting," Damon argued with a tiny smile tugging at the left corner of his mouth.

Somewhat reassured, but undeterred, Elena added, "I was insensible!"

"Not entirely," he gallantly contradicted.

"I drank so much I must have passed out."

"No," he argued reassuringly, "you fell asleep after a long, stressful evening."

"Why, it's a miracle I didn't throw up—!" Unconsciously, Elena paused, expecting him to deny that as well.

Instead, he quirked a brow at her. Silence. Assent.

"Oh, I didn't!" she breathed, dropping her face into her hands.

"You felt better afterward," he pointed out kindly.

She let her hands fall away and drew in a deep breath. "Did I do anything else?"

"You told me a few very funny jokes." He helped himself to a glass of orange juice.

"I had strange dreams all night—they were so vivid they were more like hallucinations— but I can't remember all of them, and I'm not sure if what I do remember actually happened, or if it was part of those dreams. What I mean is, have I forgotten anything else that's important?" She looked directly at Damon.

 _Define 'important, '_ Damon thought, remembering the way she had pressed her body close to him last night. She had laughingly told him nursery rhymes with silly, altered endings that made the rhymes seem hilarious.

He remembered the way she had pressed her lips to his for a small kiss, and later when he deepened the kiss, she had slid her hand beneath his tuxedo jacket and curved it around his neck, tentative at first, and then yielding, and then holding his mouth locked to hers. He had struggled to keep things from getting too far out of hand, while she engaged in playful, inebriated, and astonishingly effective tactics aimed at seeing how far his control could be stretched before it broke.

He lost a little of it, and stretched out on the bed, bringing her down on top of him. This morning, he was having problems trying to forget things that she couldn't remember at all. On the other hand, her lack of recall was for the best, since there would never be a repetition of that. "Nothing worth remembering," Damon said.

"What else did I do?" She saw his expression shift from gravity to poorly concealed amusement, and in her anxiety, she crossed her arms on the table and leaned forward. Did she strip in front of him? Oh, God! "Whatever I did, it was awful, wasn't it?" she said weakly.

"That depends."

"Tell me what else did I do." she begged him for an answer. "Please."

He hesitated. "When you threw up…"

 _This didn't sound good_ , she thought. _Whatever was coming didn't sound good._ "Yes?"

"You ruined your gown."

"Then it wasn't that awful."

"So was my tuxedo."

She was appalled, but she nodded and said very formally. "I will pay you back. How much do I owe you?"

"That's not necessary."

"I insist. It's my fault your tuxedo was ruined."

She wasn't merely beautiful and intelligent and witty, she was obstinate as hell, Damon realized. But then, so was he. "And a gentleman will never allow a woman to pay for his tuxedo," he countered firmly.

"I have never been drunk in my life," she admitted.

"There is always a first in your life," he said. "By the way, I have thrown away your gown."

"You threw my gown away?" she cried. "What am I going to wear when I leave here?"

He chuckled. "Don't worry, sweetie. I got someone to get you some new clothes."

"You did?"

"I left them in the guestroom because I didn't want to wake you up."

Elena looked at her watch, and got up. "It is late. I better get going."

"I will drop you back at your place."

"I can hail a taxi from here…"

"I insist. I'm meeting someone anyhow. Go and change. And I will clear all the dishes."

Inside the guestroom, clothing was piled on every surface, women's clothing. And every item still had the tags on them. Checking the size on a pair of jeans, she noticed that they were her size, as were all the clothes, every item a petite length. Even the new undergarments were her size. The underwear was decadent, wisps of silk and lace. The jeans were hip huggers; slimmer cut than she usually wore, cupping her curves and ass tightly when she slipped them on. Ignoring the image in the glass mirrors, she pulled a shirt over her head. It was a tee, but it was short and fit snugly over her breasts.

She tamed her hair with a never-used hairbrush that she had to pull from the package. Despite she was drunk last night, Elena was feeling surprisingly well rested. Which only went to show that if you had clean clothes and a nice brunch, a woman could handle anything, she decided.

Half an hour later they were on their way back to Elena's apartment.

"What are you doing tonight?" Damon asked when she made to slid out his blue Camaro. He wanted to spend more time with her. He wanted to see her again.

She stood and looked at him through the open door. Tension coiled in the pit of her stomach. He was dressed for business once again in the legendary Damon Salvatore war armour: steel-grey jacket and trousers, charcoal-grey shirt secured with silver-and-onyx cuff links, silver-and-black striped tie. When he moved his hand on the wheel, the dark-grey edge of his shirt cuff shifted, revealing the gleaming stainless-steel watch on his left wrist.

He looked good, she thought. Exciting. Powerful and predatory and wholly in control.

"I have a morning shift on Boxing Day. I can't stay up late tonight."

"I'm flying to Washington D.C first thing in the morning on Boxing Day as well," he said. "Why don't we have a simple meal at my place tonight? How does homemade spaghetti sound?"

 _It's only dinner, no big deal,_ she thought. Damon was her friend after all.

"Okay. But no alcohol."

He grinned. "Okay, no alcohol."

Later that night, they had meatball spaghetti Carbonara and salad in Damon's penthouse.

"You are so talented in cooking, Damon," Elena said as she sat down on the longer in the living room. "You should open your own restaurant."

Damon lowered himself into the lounger next to her and handed one of the glasses to her.

"I can't drink tonight. I have to work…" she protested.

"It's non-alcoholic. It's a fruit punch."

She eyed the drink in her hand suspiciously. "Non-alcoholic?"

"It's a mint tea fruit punch. A nice tea-based based punch made with fresh mint leaves and orange, lime and lemon juices. I created this drink for Stefan on his thirteen birthday."

She took a sip of the drink. "God, this is delicious."

"You like it?"

She drank more. "Yeah, I love it. It is still early. What shall we do?" she asked, looking expectantly from Damon.

"You want to watch a movie?"

"I know, how about a game or something? Cards? No, wait, how about something really silly…" She turned to the bookshelves, running her finger past several games. "Monopoly!" she said, looking over her shoulder.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Damon had no desire whatsoever to play any game. He only wanted to spend time alone with Elena. But if she was keen and enthusiastic about playing a game, he would play with her. He would do anything she had wanted him to do.

Two hours later he admitted to himself that the Monopoly game had been an unexpected and unqualified success that even he had enjoyed. With Elena as instigator, the game had immediately become a kind of farce, with her trying her damnedest to beat him and, failing that, to cheat him. Twice he had caught her stealing the money he had already won, and now she was coming up with outrageous reasons for refusing to pay him his due.

"No excuses this time," he warned Elena as her token landed on a property he owned. "You owe me fourteen hundred for that."

"No, I don't," she said with a smug grin. She pointed to the little plastic hotels he had put on his property, one of which she'd nudged with her finger. "That hotel is encroaching on my easement. You built on my land, therefore you owe me."

"I will 'encroach on your easement' but good," he threatened, chuckling, "if you don't hand over my money."

Laughing, she asked tremulously, "I have only one thousand. Can you lend me some?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Then I will steal from you." Reaching out, she snatched several $500 bills from Damon's pile. A few minutes later, Elena admitted defeat.

"Jesus, I know why you are so rich."

"You know?"

"You are ruthless!"

She saw Damon's face hardened slightly at her comment. "Sorry, I don't mean…"

"It's okay, sweetie." His expression softened. "People have described me as cold, calculating, and ruthless."

"No, you are not."

"Yes, I'm."

"Now listen to me. You are the smartest, kindest and funniest person I have ever known."

That startled a chuckle from him. "Really? That's all?"

"You are also the best cook I have ever known," she said, laughing.

With an effort, Damon resisted the temptation to snatch her into his arms and muffle his laughter against her lips. Elena Gilbert had hit his senses like sizzling, sparking, flashing heat lightning. She was intriguing and he was compelled to find out more about this amazing woman in front of him. It was not curiosity or even just physical desire that energized him now, although desire was definitely a big factor in the mix. There was something else going on. Whatever it was, he had a hunch the prowling, hungry awareness was going to keep him awake tonight. Not only tonight. Tomorrow night. Maybe longer.

He glanced sideways at her profile, and he marvelled at the stupidity that had prompted Liam to prefer another woman over Elena Gilbert. Even when she was a teenager, Elena had sparkled and glowed with wit, intelligence, and gentleness. As a woman, her vivid colouring, lovely figure, and innate poise made her stand out like a queen among peasants.

Damon had been with enough models to know that they were boringly obsessive about every molecule of their skin and hair, and that the bodies that looked so beautiful in designer clothes and magazine centrefolds felt like skin stretched over a skeleton in a man's bed.

Liam Davis was a fool, and he had blown his chance.

Damon Salvatore was not a fool, and he was not going to blow his.


	7. Chapter 7

Damon made two changes to the contracts, initialled them, signed his name at the bottom, and slid the documents across his desk to Enzo. "These are all right as amended. What's your problem with the property at Mystic Falls?"

"There are a couple of them, Damon," Enzo replied, straightening in his chair. "In the first place, I have the feeling you are going ahead with this deal because I led you to believe that we could make a quick, easy profit by reselling the land to Salvatore Industries. A few days ago, I thought that was a virtual sure thing, but I have spent the last day and a half researching Salvatore Industries, going over their financial statements, and I have also made some phone calls to some friends of mine in Richmond. Last I talked to someone who knows Zach Salvatore personally…"

"And?" Damon demanded impassively.

"And now I'm not completely confident Salvatore Industries will be financially able to buy the land. Based on everything I found out, I think they are heading for big trouble."

"What sort of trouble?"

"It's rather a long explanation, and I can only speculate, based on the facts and on a hunch I have."

Instead of berating him for not getting directly to the point, which Enzo half expected, Damon said, "go on."

The two small words of encouragement banished Enzo's nervous uncertainty, and he became the confident, capable investment brain they had written up in the business magazines when he was still at Harvard. "All right, here's the overall picture: Until a few years ago, the company was virtually stagnant. Their marketing techniques were antiquated, their management team relied too much on the 'prestige' of their name, and they, like the dinosaur, were on the road to extinction. Zach Salvatore, who is still president, ran the stores like a family dynasty that didn't need to respond to economic trends. Then Sarah Salvatore, Zach's daughter came along. Somehow, she managed to convince her father and the board of directors, who are anything but progressive, to embark on an expansion program. In order to expand their company, they needed to raise hundreds of millions of dollars, which they did in the usual way— they borrowed what they could from their bank, then they took the company public and sold shares on the New York Stock Exchange."

"What difference does all this make?" Damon demanded shortly.

"It wouldn't make any difference were it not for two things, Damon. They have expanded so quickly that they are in hock up to their ears, and they have been using most of their profits to different investments. As a result, they don't have a lot of cash lying around to weather any major economic reversals. Frankly, I don't know how they intend to pay for the land in Mystic Falls, or if they can. Secondly, there is a rumour that one of their investments has turned out bad. If somebody wanted to take over Salvatore Industries, they couldn't afford to put up a fight and win it. They are ripe for a takeover attempt. And," Enzo stated, deepening his voice to emphasize the importance of what he was about to say, "I think somebody else has noticed that."

Instead of looking concerned, Enzo watched an odd expression cross Damon's face, an expression that might have been amusement or satisfaction. "Is that right?"

Enzo nodded, slightly disconcerted by his strange reaction to what should have been alarming news. "I think somebody is already secretly starting to buy up all the shares in Salvatore Industries they can get their hands on, and they have been buying them up in blocks small enough not to alert Salvatore Industries or Wall Street or the SEC yet."

Damon said nothing.

"Until six months ago, Salvatore Industries' stock was pretty much where it had been for two years - selling at ten dollars a share. Until then, the average number of shares traded in a week was one hundred thousand. But," Enzo added, "in the last six months it's been inching upward until it is now nearly twelve dollars a share, and the volume of shares traded has been hitting new highs about once a month."

He looked at Damon, frowning. "It's just a hunch, but I think someone—some entity—may be trying to acquire control of the company."

Damon stood up, putting an abrupt and permanent end to the discussion. "Either that, or investors simply think Salvatore Industries is a good long-term investment. We will proceed with the purchase of the Mystic Falls property."

Enzo hesitated. "Are you sure the that land in Mystic Falls is an excellent investment?"

"I think it is."

"Good," Enzo replied, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "Because I had hate to think you were spending a fortune just to retaliate against someone from your past."

"Why would you leap to a conclusion like that?" Damon asked, but there was a gleam of sardonic amusement in his eye.

"Tell me something - how much is that land going to cost Intercorp?"

"Ten million, probably."

"And how much is it going to cost Zach Salvatore to buy it from us?"

"A hell of a lot more."

"Damon," he drawled with deceptive casualness, "do you remember the night when you sold the first company you bought?"

Damon was surprised by the question, but he remembered the time well enough. Enzo had worked for the first company that he had bought. When he sold it, Enzo elected to take his chances with Damon rather than the new owners who had offered him an excellent position and a better salary.

"I don't remember much about that night," Damon admitted, "except that we got drunk together."

"I told you I would stick with you," Enzo said, "even though the new owners were willing to give me more. I like you, Damon. I like the way you work. We both got drunk together that night." Watching Damon closely, he continued. "I have a hazy recollection that you ranting about someone named Zach who hurt your father."

"Your memory is obviously better than mine," Damon said evasively, but Enzo had noticed the imperceptible tightening in Damon's jaw at the mention of his name, and he leapt to the instant and correct conclusion.

"So," he continued, "now that we have established that the Zach that night is actually Zach Salvatore, would you care to tell me what happened between your father and him?"

"No," Damon said. "I wouldn't." He glanced at his watch and stood up. "I have to get ready for the press conference. You will have to excuse me."

Damon didn't discuss his former life with anyone. Knowing his background might change an individual's opinion of him. At the very least, it would colour an opinion. And he didn't want it.

x x x

In keeping with his promise to Intercorp's public relations department, Damon presented himself to the members of the press and did his best to look delighted to be there. He said he would grant brief interviews to the local reporters from CBS and ABC, then posed for pictures and answered routine questions for the reporter from the LA Chronicle and the local stringer from USA Today. He did not like reporters of any kind, from any medium. He was only doing it for Intercorp. When it came to Intercorp, Damon made whatever sacrifices were necessary.

To the common man, Damon Salvatore apparently represented the American Dream of a poor boy making good. Articles about him and pictures of him appeared frequently in magazines and newspapers. As year faded into year, the press became increasingly obsessed with his flamboyant corporate successes and his glamorous bedroom playmates, who included several movie stars.

The ABC interview was the last. To his surprise, the attractive journalist waved the microphone at him and asked, "How do you feel about the growing number of hostile corporate takeovers?"

"I think it is a trend that is bound to continue until such time as guidelines are set up to control it," Damon replied.

"Is Intercorp planning to swallow up any more?"

A leading question, but not unexpected, and he sidestepped it smoothly. "Intercorp is always interested in acquiring good companies in order to further our own growth and theirs."

"Even if the company doesn't wish to be acquired?"

"It is a risk we all run, even Intercorp," he replied, smiling politely.

"But it would take another giant the size of Intercorp to swallow you up. Is anyone immune to a forced merger with you—friends, and so forth? I mean," she teased, "is it possible our very own ABC could find itself your next prey?"

"The object of a takeover attempt is called the target," he said dryly, "not the prey. However," he joked, "if it will set your mind at rest, I can assure you that Intercorp does not have an acquisitive eye on ABC at this time."

She laughed and then gave him her best professional media journalist smile. "Can we talk a little about your private life now?"

Carefully concealing his irritation behind a bland smile, he asked, "Could I prevent you?"

Her smile widening, she shook her head and began. "During the past few years you have reportedly had torrid love affairs with several movie stars, models, and most recently with Andie Starr, the top TV reporter from NBC News. Were these widely publicized love affairs real, or were they invented by the gossip columnists?"

"Yes," Damon replied unanswerably.

The journalist laughed at his deliberate evasion, then she sobered, "You have never married and I was wondering if you have any plans to marry in the future."

"It's not out of the question," he replied, then he terminated the interview himself by giving her a brief smile and a curt nod before he stepped out of the camera's range.

The tactic surprised her and she followed him. "Wait—I—I was wondering if we could get together later—for a chat."

"I'm sorry," Damon lied politely, "but you will have to contact our PR department and schedule an interview."

"I wasn't actually thinking of an interview," she said, gazing directly into his eyes and softening her voice. "I thought perhaps we could have a drink somewhere…"

Damon cut her off with a shake of his head, but he softened the automatic rejection with a politely regretful smile. "I'm afraid I don't even have fifteen minutes to myself before end of the year."

She was lovely, well-spoken, and intelligent, but none of that mattered to Damon. Because the only woman he cared about now was Elena Gilbert.

He could still see the red highlights in her silky, dark brown hair shining in the sunlight and her almond-coloured eyes twinkling up at him. He could still feel the tightening in his gut that always signalled the beginning of an attraction to a woman. He could still feel the wash of warmth that went over him when she had smiled.

She was unlike any other woman he had ever known. Elena Gilbert fascinated him. She had always fascinated him since she was a child. If he had lived in another time and place, an era during which people routinely believed in superstitious nonsense, for example, he would have wondered if she had put some kind of spell on him.

Elena's intelligent face was expressive and vivid. He had to admit that there was a natural elegance to her high cheekbones. He also conceded that there was something about her full mouth that made him think of sultry nights and damp, tangled sheets.

Damon had been riveted by her from the first moment he saw her at the charity ball. He had wanted her.

God help him, he still wanted her.

It was beyond time for him to make his move.

 _To make her mine,_ he thought.

x x x

 _MYSTIC FALLS 2016_

Jenna Sommers was never happier than when bustling around her kitchen, the house full of family. She had been a housewife since marrying Logan Fell when she was twenty-six. She made no apology for never having had a career outside the home. It would never occur to her to regret her life because she had always been blissfully happy with all the choices she had made.

She was active in civic and church work and could be depended on to handle either a leadership position or the most menial and thankless task. She was quite comfortable in either capacity.

But in her kitchen, with her noisy, rambunctious family seated around the large table, she was in her element. Tonight, she was especially happy because both Jeremy and Elena were home.

She had been taking care of two of her orphaned nieces since Grayson and Miranda Gilbert died in a car accident twelve years ago. Miranda was her only sister and Jenna vowed to look after Miranda's children.

Jenna had always wanted children but not long after her marriage with Logan, she was diagnosed with cancer of the uterus and she had to undergo hysterectomy. She knew she could never have children anymore. Although Logan had been supportive, she knew her husband really wanted to have children.

When Jenna was notified about the deaths of Grayson and Miranda, she and Logan had moved back to Mystic Falls to look after Elena and Jeremy. Being their guardians was a bonus, like a gorgeous gift wrap on a very special present. She had loved both Jeremy and Elena in a special way.

"Would you like something to eat, Elena?" Jenna asked her niece, unable to resist the impulse of lovingly smoothing her hand over Elena's mane of hair.

"Please, aunt Jenna, if it is not too much trouble." Momentarily she rested her cheek on the back of Jenna's hand. Then, as though embarrassed by the childish gesture, she pulled away. "Hmm, cookies."

"Yes," Elena replied, laughing as she surveyed the mess on the kitchen countertop. "Your uncle Logan told me you have arrived while I was right in the middle of frosting them. As you can see, I dropped everything and ran. We will finish them later."

"I would like that," Elena said, giving her a swift hug before taking a chair at the table.

"I'm so glad you can come back for New Year." Jenna dropped a pat of butter into a hot iron skillet and began building a cheese sandwich. "New Year just wouldn't be the same without you here."

"Me too."

"But where's Liam?" Jenna asked. "Is he coming on New Year Eve as planned?"

"Uh, I doubt it. He is…he is bogged down with his research studies. It was going to be inconvenient for him to make the trip…"

At the risk of painting herself into a corner, or telling an outright lie, she let her explanation trail off. The unvarnished truth was that Liam wouldn't be joining them on New Year Eve, period. They didn't need to know anything beyond that

"Is everything okay between you two?" Jenna asked, instantly concerned for her niece.

"Yeah, everything was fine." She took a sip of her coffee Jenna had poured her. "We are fine. He is busy, that's all."

"Damn shame he won't be here," Jeremy said with affected sincerity. He sauntered in and dropped into a chair. "New Year won't be the same without the future zit doctor."

Any other time, Elena would have lit into Jeremy for poking fun at Liam, but, again, his comment went virtually unnoticed. She was experiencing a twinge of conscience and arguing with herself that she hadn't actually told a lie.

Jeremy hadn't asked her point-blank, "Are you still engaged to Liam, or did he break it off earlier?" Elena reasoned. She had avoided mentioning it, that's all.

"Liam adores Elena," Logan said. "It is so obvious from the way he looks at you."

Elena's insides took a free-fall. She had a clear recollection of what Liam had said to her when he broke up with her. Every time she thought about Liam seeing Nadia behind her back when they were still together, she was furious with him and felt thoroughly humiliated.

"When are you two getting married?" Jenna asked excitedly. "When's the big day?"

Elena managed a wan smile. "We haven't decided on it."

"Liam hasn't proposed yet?" Logan asked. "You two have been together for more than a year."

"We have been busy," Elena said. _Definitely time to change the subject,_ she thought. "Where's Anna, Jeremy?"

Anna was Jeremy's childhood sweetheart and he had been in love with shy, elfin Anna for as long as Elena could remember. After finishing his university degree, Jeremy was offered a job at one of the oil companies in Texas and he had asked Anna to join him in Texas. To Jeremy's intense relief, Anna's answer was yes and they had been happily married for almost a year now.

"She said to tell everybody good-night. She was exhausted. It was a long trip from Texas."

"I can't wait for the New Year Eve party," Elena said. "It would be fun."

"Remember the New Year Eve that year when you got so drunk you nearly did a strip dance in front of us?" Jeremy teased.

"I wasn't drunk!" Elena threw a Frito at him. Grinning, he caught it and ate it.

"I remember that," Logan said. He was leaning against the countertop, snitching raw cookie dough and sipping the coffee Jenna had poured for him. "You and Caroline were so drunk that night. Jenna and Liz basically had to hold you two down in order to stop the strip dance."

"Caroline was the one who suggested the strip dance," Elena retorted.

"But you were the first who stripped," Jeremy remarked.

She threw another Frito at her brother. This one he threw back. She threw another one. He threw it back too. Soon corn chips were flying.

"Children! I swear, you are worse than three-year-olds."

They were all still laughing when Jeremy stretched and sniffled a yawn.

"Guess I better go to bed. It's late." He said his good-nights and left the kitchen for upstairs.

"I'm beat, too," Elena said, coming to her feet. "Good night, aunt Jenna. We will get on those cookies first thing in the morning." She kissed Jenna's cheek. "Good night, uncle Logan."

Logan walked towards her when she went for her suitcases. She waved him back into his chair. "I can get them."

"No problem," he said, lifting the suitcases off the floor and Elena followed him out of the kitchen.

Logan returned to the table to finish his coffee a minute later and was surprised to find his wife frowning. "What's wrong?"

"Elena, for one thing."

"Elena?"

She could tell by his tone that she had surprised him. "Soon she will be making wedding plans and women planning their wedding should be thrilled. But Elena wasn't."

"Maybe she was tired. It was a harrowing trip from LA to here."

Jenna gnawed her lower lip. "Maybe you are right."

"You worry too much, Jenna."

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. His mouth was warm and mobile over hers. Their kiss was giving, loving, and sexy. He drew her closer, and, for a moment, she submitted to having his hands on her hips before self-consciously stepping back, her cheeks flushed.

"The kids are upstairs," Jenna whispered.

"They aren't kids anymore," Logan said, laughing. "Jeremy is married and Elena is getting married soon."

"Behave yourself, Logan Fell," Jenna said, grinning at her husband she adored. "I will finish cleaning up here. Why don't you have your shower before going to bed? We will be busy tomorrow."

"Sure." He lowered his head again and kissed her meaningfully. They finally parted reluctantly before Jenna waved him off and dreamily moved back towards the countertop.

Lying on her bed, Elena grinned into her pillow, feeling warm, snugly, and content in the knowledge that she was back in Mystic Falls where her family was. Hanging on the wall she was facing were familiar framed photographs - Elena as the Mystic Falls High School cheerleading squad, Elena in cap and gown receiving her high school diploma, Elena accepting her medical degree from the dean of the medical school at the University of Virginia, Elena with her brother and parents in Yellowstone National Park, taken during the family vacation when she was ten. Beloved photographs.

She had been eagerly looking forward to New Year so that she could spend time with her family again. Then Liam had his nerve, breaking their engagement after he had promise he would be able to spend time with her family during New Year.

He had his nerve, breaking their engagement, period.

For the past year, they had constantly talked marriage. They had made plans. They agreed that marriages should be well blueprinted and based on common goals rather than strictly romance. Sexual heat was a shaky foundation to build a life on.

Elena had decided long ago that she would never depend on a man for her happiness. Liam understood that. Likewise, he wanted his wife to be committed to the success of his medical practice. She loved Liam. Hadn't he admitted that night that he loved her? But they were more practical about love than some couples.

Liam could be driven to passion, just like any man. They had had their steamy moments together. But it wasn't as though his centre of gravity was in his loins. He didn't possess that raw, animal sexuality like her brother. Not like…..Damon. Her mind snapped closed around the thought. She couldn't stop thinking about Damon since Christmas Eve.

Quite objectively, she thought her father and Jeremy were the handsomest men around. For his age, Logan, too, was a heartthrob. Plenty of women in and around Mystic Falls were jealous of his devotion to Jenna.

Damon, however, was movie-star handsome. Some matinee idols might even envy the angular bone structure of his face and the provocative shape of his mouth. And his eyes…One look into those eyes could steal the breath of any woman on this planet earth, Elena thought.

The man was absolutely lethal. No wonder women fell at his feet. Just the memory of his voice and his smile were making her hands tremble! Really, she decided as she tried to suppress a half-hearted smile, if he could bottle all that awesome sex appeal, he wouldn't need to work to make money. Her smile faded as she wondered how many other women he had offered his paradise to, and then she realized the answer had to be dozens. She couldn't be jealous, could she? Damon was her friend. He treated her like his sister.

She was furious with herself for behaving like a teenager in the throes of her first big infatuation. _Get a grip,_ she said to herself. She closed her eyes and tried to get some sleep. But all she saw were two captivating blue eyes, deep dimples, and a sensuous, smiling mouth. With that picture fixed in her mind, she eventually dropped off into a restless slumber.

x x x

"It was one of the more embarrassing moments of my life." Elena leaned back on her seat at the Grill, and sipped glumly on the hot green tea the waitress had given her. "I couldn't believe Liam would have the nerve to break our engagement."

"Don't you dare blame yourself for this, Elena," Caroline exclaimed loyally as she plucked the plastic laminated menu out from its position between the napkin holder and the little carousel that held the condiments. "He was engaged to you when he fooled around with someone else. He ought to be horsewhipped!"

"I have never like Liam Davis," her best friend continued bluntly. "I have always wondered if the two of you were right for each other."

"I didn't know what to do," Elena admitted for the first time. "I haven't told aunt Jenna and Jeremy about the break up yet."

"Just tell them the truth. He doesn't love you, Elena, and you don't love him. Period."

Elena looked at Caroline, the woman who had been her best friend since first grade. "I thought Liam was the one."

"Obviously, he isn't. He is just a scumbag."

Elena thought about Damon calling Liam the scum of the earth. She looked as though she was attempting to suppress a smile.

"What?" Caroline demanded.

"I think you are right," Elena said. "Liam Davis is definitely a scumbag."

The two women burst out in laughter. But when they sobered, Caroline's eyes softened. "Take my word that Liam isn't the one for you. You deserve someone who adores you. You deserve that."

"Thank you, Caroline," Elena whispered. Her heart squeezed with love for her best friend.

Caroline raised one brow in a very knowing fashion. "Has it occurred to you that you have been too busy to do anything but work? That you haven't actually dated all that many men? That maybe, just maybe, you settled for 'liking' Liam instead of 'loving' someone else?"

Elena lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "Whatever I did wrong, my family was going to be disappointed now because Liam dumped me for someone else."

"You were going to marry the wrong man; that's what you did wrong."

"I wish I were married to the right one now."

Caroline aimed a finger at her. "You know what you really need?"

"Please don't say a new boyfriend."

"You said you wish you were married to the right one now. What you need now is a new boyfriend."

Damon came to Elena's mind immediately. _Don't be silly,_ she thought. _Damon wouldn't be your boyfriend._ What was wrong with her today? Why was she thinking about Damon again? She had to get a grip on herself. Caroline was watching her with gathering concern.

"Are you okay?" Caroline asked. "Something wrong?"

"No, of course not. I'm fine." Elena took a long, reviving swallow of tea. "I have been a little tense since the breakup with Liam, that's all."

"What you need now is a new man in your life. You need a man who really loves you. Liam isn't that man. You just never had a chance to find one who does," Caroline said tenderly. Then her eyes sparkled. "But I think I might be able to help you find one."

Elena groaned. "Oh, no! You are not going to put me into some sort of match-making programme, aren't you? I'm warning you, Caroline Forbes…"

Caroline smiled at her. "Here comes Tyler,"

She glanced up to see Tyler Lockwood moving regally down the aisle between a row of tables. He was followed by a man in his early thirties. He was nearly as tall as Tyler but not as muscular.

They halted beside the table where Elena and Caroline sat. Tyler dropped an overstuffed leather briefcase onto the vinyl seat and slid into the booth across from Elena. He gave Caroline a brief kiss on her cheek.

"Sorry, I'm late, darling. Dad wants to make some last-minute changes to the schedule for the New Year Eve event at the town hall. Hey, you are looking great, Elena."

Elena smiled at Tyler. "Thanks. So are you. It is good to see you again. Been a while."

Tyler laughed. "Too long."

Elena had known Tyler since first grade. He had always been fun despite being the only son of the mayor of Mystic Falls. He was a bright, high-energy man who bubbled with personality and plans. Caroline started dating Tyler since high school and they had announced their engagement recently. Elena was happy for both of them.

"Elena, this is Aaron Whitmore. Aaron, meet Elena Gilbert," Caroline said. "Aaron is a colleague of mine at the Whitmore College. His father is the assistant head of the Department of Sociology at Whitmore College."

"Nice to meet you, Elena," Aaron said. He wasn't considered good looking but he had a nice smile. "Caroline said you are a doctor."

Elena gave Caroline a quick glare before turning her attention back to Aaron. "Yes, I work in the ER at the Cedars-Sinai Medical Centre in LA."

"Impressive." Aaron's smile was polite. "I haven't had plans for New Year as my parents had travelled to Canada for a research meeting. Caroline suggests I come to Mystic Falls for a visit. And here I'm."

"Mystic Falls is a special place," Caroline bubbled with enthusiasm. "Maybe it is a place where you find the love of your life."

Tea sloshed over the side of Elena's cup. She sputtered wildly, "Caroline likes to joke. Ha, ha."

"I'm not so sure it's any harder to find love in a small town than it is in a big city." Tyler chuckled. "Just look at Caroline and me. I never would have found her if I'm not staying here in Mystic Falls."

Caroline grinned. "Well, you know what they say. Love is where you find it."

Elena rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right."

"Life is so unpredictable," Caroline said. "Who knows, Elena? You and I both finding true love where we least expected it."

"Why don't we watch the fireworks in the park on New Year Eve together?" Tyler suggested.

Caroline's eyes lit up with excitement. "That's a good idea. We can go over to the park after the dinner at your parents."

"I'm not going." Elena took a long sip of her tea. "I'm spending New Year Eve with aunt Jenna, uncle Logan, Jeremy and Anna."

"Come on, it would be fun. Join us," Caroline pleaded. "Please."

"I can pick you up at your place and we can join them at the park," Aaron said eagerly.

"Great! Aaron will pick you up around eleven p.m. and we will meet at the park." Caroline clapped her hands in glee before Elena could say anything. "Oh, Aaron, you can't imagine how happy that makes me. I'm pretty sure you and Elena will get along very well."

An hour later Aaron turned his Jaguar into Elena's driveway. "This is a beautiful Camaro. Does it belong to you?"

"No." Elena watched curiously as the sleek vehicle parked next to Jenna's red four wheel drive Jeep. It looked very familiar. Where had she seen it before?

"It is the latest model." Aaron brought the car to a halt and switched off the ignition. "I bet this car costs a fortune."

"Hmm." Elena opened the door on her side and slid out of the Jaguar. She went around the front of the car. Aaron fell into step beside her and together they walked toward her front door.

"Thanks for the ride." Elena hurried up the steps with Aaron right behind her.

"I will pick you up at eleven tonight?" Aaron asked.

She turned to face Aaron. He had been nice enough, but there had been no chemistry. A half hour into their lunch together, Elena had known that a relationship between them would never go anywhere. She had played along because she didn't want to upset Caroline and Tyler, and Aaron wasn't a bad company, but she had no intention of being anything more than a friend to him.

The front door of her house swung open just as she was trying to tell Aaron that she wasn't interested in him. Damon Salvatore stood there looking as if he had every right to occupy her home.

It was the first-time Elena had seen him dressed in anything other than a formal suit and tie. Damon was wearing denims, and a grey long-sleeved T-shirt.

His emotionless blue gaze swept over Elena and then settled intently on Aaron.

Elena's mouth open in astonishment. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you." Damon did not take his eyes off Aaron.

Aaron cleared his throat as Damon looked him over. "Hello, um, I'm Aaron Whitmore," he said, sticking out his hand. "And you are…Elena's brother?"

"I'm her friend," Damon held out his hand with a cool, deliberate air, as if he didn't expect Aaron to observe the formalities and didn't really care one way or the other. It was a minimally polite gesture, nothing more. He kept the handshake perfunctory. "Damon Salvatore."

"Damon Salvatore of Intercorp? I have heard about your name. You have a great reputation in the business world. A lot of the MBA candidates are studying your takeover techniques."

Damon remained cool. "Hmm."

"How long have you known Elena?" Aaron asked.

"As a matter of fact…"

"We are friends," Elena interrupted crisply. "We both have roots here in Mystic Falls."

"I see." Aaron kept his attention on Damon. "How long are you going to be in town?"

"As long as it takes," Damon said.

"He is probably here for business, right, Damon? He is very busy," she told Aaron. "He won't stay here for long."

"I have never said I'm here for business."

Aaron gave Elena a sidelong glance. "I will see you tonight?"

"I won't see her if I were you," Damon muttered to Aaron.

Aaron's eyes widened. "Did you say what I think you said?"

"No," Elena interrupted. "Damon is a joker. Ha, ha. Funny. I will talk to you later, Aaron."

Aaron nodded brusquely at Damon and went back down the steps.

Damon watched him leave. "Who is this geek?"

"Someone I know."

"What were you doing with him?"

"None of your business." Elena walked past him into the living room. Damon could tell from her clipped sentence that she was angry with him.

He let the front door close slowly. "How long have you known him for?"

Elena shrug off her leather jacket. "A while."

"Meaning?"

Elena lifted her chin. She confronted Damon with her legs braced and her hands shoved into the deep pockets of the long, hand knitted turquoise tunic she wore over black leggings. "What more do you want to hear?"

"You are upset," he concluded.

"Yes, I'm upset. You basically scared Aaron to death. You are a big bully!"

His jaw tightened. "Because I don't like him."

"Why not?" Elena asked, stunned.

He hesitated for a brief moment. He couldn't tell Elena he was jealous when she was with another man, could he? "You are in a vulnerable state right now, and your guard is down."

She widened her eyes in sheer amazement. "I'm in a vulnerable state? What's that supposed to mean?"

"You just broke up with that scum of the earth. The last thing you want is to rush into a new relationship. I don't want to see you get hurt again."

"Aaron is just a friend, and you are being over protective!"

"I care about you. I want you to be happy," he said huskily, as he reached for her hand.

Her heart stuttered as he clasped her hand gently and entwined her smaller fingers with his. "You are a good man," Elena told him, the thought hitting her at the same time she spoke it aloud.

"I'm not perfect, but I'm damn well someone better than the scum of earth that you just left in LA," Damon answered, his tone disgruntled.

She clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle the giggle, her eyes widened, and the giggles erupted into great gales of gusty mirth. She laughed so hard that her eyes teared, and Damon started laughing too. When he reached out and drew her quaking body against his own, she collapsed against him and laughed harder.

Wrapping his arms around her, Damon buried his laughing face in her hair, filled with the joy of her. He had never felt so happy in his life. Only Elena could make him happy.

When most of her hilarity had passed, Elena leaned back in his arms. "How did you get inside the house, Damon?"

"Jenna let me in. I told her I was your boyfriend."

Her smile faded. "You did not."

"I did," Damon teased. "She was so shocked and then Jeremy recognised me."

Elena bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. "You are terrible, Damon Salvatore."

He tightened his arms around her, his voice turning low-pitched and suggestive. "You are single now. I can still be your boyfriend."

She backed away a hasty step, still smiling, but more out of self-consciousness than mirth. "Where's everyone?" she asked, launching into diversionary conversation and hastily starting towards the kitchen.

"Jenna and Logan have gone to the supermarket. Jeremy and Anna have decided to go for a walk," Damon said, watching the way she was avoiding him. He didn't like it but he didn't want to push her too much.

"I thought you were in Washington D.C." She kept her back to him as she filled a teakettle at the sink.

He came to stand in the doorway of the kitchen. "I had a press conference and a few meetings after Boxing Day. There is some important business I have to take care of."

"Is that all you ever think about? Business?" she asked as she put the kettle onto the stove and switched on the burner. Did Damon only care about business and nothing else? Elena wondered. She had actually gained the impression somewhere along the line that the two of them had something in common, that their inner voices spoke to each other, that they somehow understood each other, silently yearned for each other.

Obviously, her normally astute powers of intuition had become confused and disoriented in the fog caused by the attraction she had felt for Damon. She suddenly realized that this was her first brush with real passion, the kind that involved body and soul.

"No, business is not the only thing I think about," Damon said evenly. "But it's definitely high on my list of priorities."

"I can see that."

"What's yours?"

"Mine?"

"What's high on your priority list right now?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. I thought I was getting married and I would be busy planning for my wedding after New Year." She sighed. "But I don't think I have anything on my priority list right now."

"I don't think you would be happy if you married that scum of the earth," Damon said.

"Why?" Elena questioned curiously. Damon knew very little about her relationship with Liam.

"I just know," he said softly.

She looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"He can't give you what you want, sweetie."

"What do I want, Damon?"

"I know what you want, sweetie." A smile lurked at him mouth. "You want a love that consumes you. You want passion, an adventure, and even a little danger."

Elena felt it happening again, that awesome magnetic pull of his body and voice, the melting inside her when he called her sweetie. The warmth of his smile, the lazy boldness in his heavy-lidded blue gaze, made her feel overheated, so she hastily looked away and kept her gaze averted. The kettle shrilled. She quickly picked up a spoon, opened a canister and began to ladle tea into a pot. What was wrong with her? she thought. She yanked the kettle off the stove and poured boiling water over the tea leaves in the pot.

"Do you want some tea?" she asked as she reached into the cupboard and took down a mug, one fashioned in the shape of a bright yellow flower.

"Sure. I don't use milk or sugar," Damon said.

She passed the mug to him and picked up her mug. "Uh, did you tell Jenna or Jeremy…about…about…"

Damon raised his brows. "Did I tell them about your breakup? No."

"Thank God," Elena whispered, relief evident in her voice.

"Elena," Damon said firmly, "you shouldn't lie to your family. It wasn't your fault. He doesn't deserve you."

She exhaled slowly. "I know. I'm just afraid that they would be disappointed."

"They would be disappointed if you married that scumbag."

She grimaced. "Gee, thanks."

"Cheer up, sweetie," Damon said with a grin on his face. "It's New Year Eve. Tomorrow will be a better day."

Elena nodded with a smile. "You are right. Tomorrow will be a better day."


	8. Chapter 8

"Alright," Elena said with a nervous smile as she led the small contingent into the living room with a fireplace with a raised tile hearth at the other. "Everyone get nice and comfortable."

In the middle of the room, separated by a mahogany coffee table, stood two long sofas upholstered in a rich burgundy and gold stripe, strewn with an assortment of plump pillows covered in jewel-toned plaids that made the sofas, and the room, seem more inviting and warm. With an expansive wave of her arm, Elena gestured toward the sofas and then she walked over and stood near the fireplace.

Damon positioned himself near the large bookshelf; then he watched with amusement as Elena nervously rubbed her palms together, and generally behaved as if she genuinely dreaded the effect of her announcement on her family. From Damon's point of view, which was based on his own upbringing and adult experiences, Elena was a grown woman who had weighed the risks, made her decision, and shouldn't expect either support or even any real interest from her family.

Jenna and Logan sat on one of the sofas, and Jeremy and Anna seated themselves on the opposite one.

"This must be one great big surprise you have in store for us on New Year Eve," Jeremy teased her as he leaned back on the sofa. Having followed her wishes, he beamed an expectant smile at her, clearly harbouring the mistaken belief that Elena's visible nervousness came from excitement and that whatever she had to say couldn't possibly be anything but pleasing. "Okay, we are all here, and we're all sitting down," he pointed out. "Fire away."

Elena looked around at the attentive faces of her assembled family, rubbed her palms against her thighs, and admitted with a choked laugh, "I haven't felt this nervous since I was sixteen and had to stand here and tell everyone that I had wrecked the car Dad had just allowed me to drive when I got my driving licence."

Both Jeremy and Anna chuckled, but Jenna was more interested in the present. Trying to make a connection between wrecked cars and family meetings in the living room called by Elena, she furrowed her brow and said, "Did you wreck a car again, Elena? Is that why you have called us in here?"

"No, I didn't wreck a car," Elena said. _My engagement was wrecked,_ she amended silently, then glanced sideways at Damon. He lifted his brows in a challenge to her to get down to business, and Elena automatically obeyed. "Okay, here goes," she said, directing her full attention to her family. "Liam and I broke up."

The taut silence that followed her announcement tore through Elena's nervous system like nails scraping over a chalkboard. "I know you are all a little shocked right now," she told the four faces that were staring at her in incredulous horror.

Jeremy was the first to recover and react. Aiming a look of pure, undiluted loathing at Damon, he said bitterly, "Damon Salvatore, you are the reason my sister broke up with her fiancé, aren't you? I have heard about your reputation."

"No, now wait!" Elena interrupted, stunned by her brother's unprecedented anger and determined to take matters in hand. "It wasn't like that at all, Jeremy. Damon has nothing to do with my break up with Liam. I only met Damon at the charity ball on Christmas Eve."

"I thought things were going well for Liam and you," Logan said. "What went wrong?"

Elena took a deep breath, and began to honestly reveal how Liam ended their engagement.

"Liam and I didn't break up," she said bitterly. "Liam dumped me for another woman. He is now engaged with his assistant."

"Son of a bitch," Jeremy cursed loudly.

"He is a jerk!" Anna added.

Jenna hesitated a moment, studying her beautiful niece. "Why didn't you tell us, Elena? Why put on an act this last couple of weeks?"

"Because I didn't want to involve the rest of the family with my problem. The holiday would have been spoiled. What purpose would it have served except to make everyone uncomfortable and uptight?"

"You still should have confided in us, Elena," Logan said gently. "That's what this family is about. If one of us is suffering, we all take it to heart. You know that."

Jeremy nodded. "That's what family is about. I am very tempted to go to LA and pound Liam to mush."

She rolled her eyes. "And wouldn't that be dandy?"

Logan grinned. "Say the word and we will both go."

Heart swelling with love, smiling her gratitude, she shook her head no. "But thanks for the thought."

"Sure you are okay?" Jenna stood up and headed for her niece. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, wrapping her in a fierce hug.

"Don't worry about me. I wasn't as broken-hearted as everyone might presume."

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Elena. Liam is no big loss. Come on," Jenna urged, turning Elena away from the fireplace and towards the sofa. "It's New Year Eve tonight. We are going to have a big celebration. Don't let that jerk spoils this wonderful holiday."

"True. He is just a scumbag," Elena said, getting her voice under control and her features into a semblance of their normal expression.

"You deserve a much better man, Elena," Anna said. Turning to Damon with a pleasant smile, she said, "Jeremy told me all about who you are. Who you were, I mean. He told me he used to play video games together with your brother."

"Elena used to talk a lot about Damon when she was a teenager," Jeremy added enthusiastically. "She told us how intelligent and hardworking you are, and you could manage to work a few jobs and still get good grades."

"I was telling the truth. Damon did work hard. Look at how successful he is now." She looked expectantly at Damon but he just smiled politely at her family.

"The truth is she had a crush on you!" Jeremy exclaimed. "We all knew how she felt about you. Although," he confided with a reminiscent smile as he leaned a little forward, "Elena wasn't nearly as obvious as I was about Anna. Elena was much more secretive, but it was my opinion that she was probably as crazy about you as I was about Anna. She had all the symptoms of a girl in love, and I thought…"

"Jeremy!" Anna said in a low, imploring voice. "This isn't the time or place for that."

"The truth's the truth, right occasion or not," Jeremy said; then he looked to Elena, of all unlikely people, for support. "Was I mistaken, Elena?"

Elena felt the heat rising in her cheeks and cursed her brother's commentary. "Well, you were right. I did have a tremendous crush on Damon when I was young," she exclaimed in a voice that sounded too eagerly enthusiastic for what was, after all, ancient history. "In fact, most girls had a crush on him at that time!" she added, stealing a quick glance at Damon to see how he was reacting to that piece of news, but his expression hadn't altered by so much as a flicker. Completely impervious, he stood with his arms loosely folded over his chest, his feet planted slightly apart, watching her. A little startled by his lack of response, she returned her attention to her family. "It is part of growing up, isn't it?"

There was a short silence.

Logan cleared his throat. "I'm not sure about all of you but I'm starving." He stood up and looked at Jenna. "Ready to work on dinner?"

"Sure." Jenna rose from the sofa and turned to look at Damon. "Are you staying for dinner, Damon?"

Elena thought he would decline the invitation because of Jeremy's commentary but to her surprise, Damon turned to Jenna with an equally challenging smile and said, "I wasn't aware that I had been invited."

"You are now," Jenna announced.

Anna seconded the invitation with quiet firmness. "Please have dinner with us."

"I shouldn't have snapped on you just now," Jeremy added. "Please stay for dinner."

"Thank you," Damon said to all of them. "In that case, I will be happy to stay."

Elena decided it was still best to take Damon outside so that she could tell him to forget about what Jeremy had said about her silly crush. She didn't want him to feel uncomfortable about their relationship. _Friendship_ , she corrected. She was only his friend after all.

She looked at him. "Want to get some air?"

Damon looked at her quizzically.

"Outside. Fresh air. Let's go."

x x x

When Elena came back to Mystic Falls, it had merely been snowing. _Blame the greenhouse effect,_ she thought. According to the radio, the temperature would continue to drop after New Year, with a total snowfall of twelve inches expected in the next few days.

Outside the house, the fading of the sunlight had meant the fading of the heat. Wintry air swirled around Elena taking every lick of warmth it could. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, pulling her sweater closed and tucking her chin downward into her pullover.

"You are cold," Damon said.

"I'm fine."

"You are freezing. You should stay inside."

"The climate is worse inside," she said as she headed towards the swings with old-fashioned wood plank seats and heavy suspension chains on the porch and sat down.

Damon followed and sat beside her. Some distance away from the house, a middle-aged couple played catch with their young grandson in the front yard. "Throw the ball to Paw-Paw," he heard the woman say.

Elena gave the swing a push. "I'm sorry about what was said inside."

"It's okay," he said dryly.

"But you are still embarrassed," Elena surmised.

He shook his head. "I'm not embarrassed, Elena."

"Are you angry?" she asked, studying his features for a clue.

"No." He paused. "I knew about the crush you had on me."

Her face turned bright pink. "You knew?"

He raised one shoulder. "Sensed."

"Oh, God. Now I'm really embarrassed. I didn't think you were aware of it."

He had known. But her adolescent crush on him hadn't become noteworthy because of their age difference and all he cared at that time was to become successful and rich. Now it had taken on a significance that disturbed him.

But he wouldn't go there. Not until she did.

Instead, he smiled. "What did you like about me?"

"You were so much older. You drove a truck and seemed to know everything. You worked hard and still managed to get good grades. You appeared distant and aloof most of the time. A lot of the girls thought you were really cool and dangerous."

"And they were right."

She laughed lightly. "Cool and dangerous. Every girl's fantasy."

"Oh yeah?" He leaned toward her and lowered his voice. "What do you think of me now?"

Instantly she sobered and held his stare for several seconds, then replied quietly, "I think you are still dangerous."

He chuckled. "You haven't seen my 'dangerous look', sweetie."

"What's your 'dangerous look' like?"

"I don't think you want to know."

"Oh, go ahead. Let me see it…"

Damon was so unaccustomed to being treated with teasing impertinence that it startled a shout of laughter from him, and Elena thought there was a rusty quality to it. Had he always put up a wall between himself and other people? she wondered.

"I like your family," he said after a while.

"Both Jeremy and I are very grateful for what aunt Jenna and uncle Logan have done for us. They moved back to Mystic Falls after they had received the news of my parents' accident." After a moment's pause, she added, "I just turned seven-teen when my parents died. Jeremy was only fifth-teen. I didn't want to think about what we would have become if they hadn't taken us under their wings."

Seven-teen. Damon understood the pain of losing her parents at such a young age. He had been fifth-teen when he struck out on his own, but he had already led a hard life by then; he was used to scandal and hardship and opposition. Elena, on the other hand, had always struck him as being delicate and sheltered and endearingly prim.

He felt a sudden desire to reach out and touch her cheek, and when he spoke, his voice was unaccustomedly gentle. "Both Jeremy and you have turned out fine."

"Jeremy was so upset over losing our parents. I didn't know what to do. Luckily aunt Jenna and uncle Logan were patient and tactile with him."

"Do you miss them?" he asked.

"Yes, I do. You?"

"What about me?"

"Do you miss your parents?"

There was a pause. She looked at him expectantly. But after several seconds, he shrugged. "I guess I was too busy to think about them in the last ten years."

She looked a little taken aback by his words, but she didn't believe he was as indifferent to the parental loss as he pretended, but, for the time being, she let it go. "How long are you planning to stay here?"

"I have to go to Richmond on the 3rd. It's business."

"It's just a business," she scoffed.

Damon raised his brows. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You are getting into the 'business look'," she teased. "It's New Year Eve. You need to relax."

He grinned then. "You don't like my 'business look' uh?"

She shook her head, laughing. "No. It is not exactly your most attractive look."

He narrowed his focus on her mouth. "Hmm…what is my most attractive look?"

She thought her cheeks were growing so warm he probably detected her blush. His grin was unrepentantly suggestive and made her feel fifth-teen years old again. "I'm not saying you have any attractive looks. I'm saying this is my least favourite one."

He chuckled. "Noted. See if I can make any improvements."

x x x

Standing at the kitchen, where she was tearing red leaf lettuce into small pieces, Jenna studied the couple at the porch. She was so absorbed with the scene and its possibilities that she jumped when her husband came up behind her and put his arms around her waist. "Do you need a hand?" Logan asked.

"I have everything under control in here."

"I will give you a hand." Automatically, he picked up a knife and began slicing green peppers into thin strips.

"You are helping with the salad, aren't you?" She handed him a clean dish towel. "If you tuck this into your waistband, you won't get anything on you."

Logan eyed the towel askance. "Real men don't wear aprons," he joked.

"Think of it as a loincloth," she suggested.

They worked in companionable silence for several moments, both of them watching the couple at the porch. Elena and Damon were seated side-by-side on the swing. Whatever she was saying to him made him laugh. "I agree with Elena," Jenna said with a reminiscent smile, "I knew all the other girls thought Damon Salvatore was so incredibly sexy."

"You do?"

Jenna nodded. "He has a marvellous face—it's all hard planes and tough angles. There's almost a…a predatory quality about him."

She dropped a fistful of curly lettuce into the bowl and picked up some long, damp spinach leaves, shredding those as she continued thoughtfully. "He does have the sex appeal."

Logan scowled out the window, piqued by Jenna's fascination and lavish praise of another man's face. "You really think so?" he asked as he began slicing a red onion.

She nodded. "Huh, uh."

"Tell me something," Logan challenged. "What do you think about his eyes?"

"What's wrong with his eyes?" she asked, looking over at her husband.

"Because they are as cold and hard as granite. I watched him in the living room just now, and I don't think there's an ounce of warmth or feeling in him."

"Damon was still a child when I left Mystic Falls but Jeremy said he had a hard time when he was younger. Whatever he has been through definitely makes him lot harder," Jenna admitted, "but I don't think he's cold. Look at the two of them together out there. They look so sweet."

In sceptical silence, Logan gazed out the window. Realizing his lack of response was disagreement, Jenna said, "What do you see when you look at them?"

"I see Little Red Riding Hood smiling at the Big Bad Wolf."

She laughed at the storybook images, but her smile faded as he continued, "Based on everything I have read and heard, I can tell you that the man you are rhapsodizing about is probably the most unfeeling son of a bitch you've ever encountered, as well as being the most ruthless entrepreneur of this decade."

Jenna forgot the greens she was shredding. 'What do you mean by that?"

"He is a ruthless corporate raider," Logan said flatly. "A year ago, he had entered into negotiations to buy a multi-billion-dollar electronics manufacturer headquartered in New York. Originally, the company had approached him, asking if Intercorp would be interested in acquiring them. And guess what happened?"

"What happened?"

"Later, the officers of Smith Electronics had suddenly refused to accept the previously agreed-upon terms. Angry at the waste of Intercorp's time and money, he decided to acquire Smith with or without their consent. As a result of that decision, a fierce and well-publicized battle ensued. At the end of it, Smith's officers and directors were left lying crippled on the financial battlefield, and Intercorp had gained a very profitable electronics manufacturer."

Jenna's jaw dropped. "That's a bit mean, isn't it?"

"He is not mean. Damon Salvatore is ruthless. If he wants something, he will do anything to get it."

Jenna felt a shiver of apprehension, but it was offset somehow by the way he seemed to soften now when he looked at Elena at the porch. "I guess this is the way he deals with business."

"Rumours seem to follow him everywhere," Logan pointed out sarcastically. "He has been seen with lots of beautiful women."

Jenna smiled at the last part of what he had said and started putting everything they'd sliced, shredded, or chopped into a beautiful wooden bowl, burnished from years of use. "Besides being handsome and sexy, Damon is a billionaire, and of course he would been seen with lots of beautiful women."

"Aren't you worried about Elena seeing a man like Damon?"

"Why should I? He is nice to her."

Logan leaned forward, rinsed off his hands, and wiped them on a towel, his expression grim. "I doubt that he was all that 'nice' to the Donovans."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because among his many enemies are Peter and Matt Donovan. They hate him thoroughly."

Jenna's hands went still over the salad bowl. "Why did they hate him?"

"Listen to me, honey. I know you are so euphoric because you think Damon could possibly be the right man for Elena but I seriously doubt it because the Donvans thoroughly despise him. I'm only telling you now so you don't set yourself or Elena up for a fall by dreaming that this relationship might turn into anything more than it is."

"Despise him?" she whispered. "Why? What could Damon possibly have done?"

"I have told you everything I know, and the only reason I know that much is because I talked to Pete several years ago when Kelly was admitted to the hospital with a nasty chest infection. He was so worried and upset. I took him out for dinner, hoping to cheer him up." Logan walked over to one of the cabinets and retrieved bottles of white wine vinegar and extra virgin olive oil, which he opened and began pouring into measuring cups. "We had had some beer, and we decided to spend the rest of the evening at his house. We went into the living to watch the news, and Damon's picture was on the news and when Pete saw it, he launched into a diatribe against Damon that was so filled with malice you wouldn't have believed Pete was doing the talking."

Logan looked up from whisking the oil and vinegar together. "The next morning he apologized and said he'd had too much to drink the night before, and that I shouldn't pay any attention to his 'drunken ramblings.'"

"Maybe that's all they were," Jenna said hopefully as she gave a final toss to the undressed salad. "Pete has never been able to drink."

"Believe me, I know," Logan said with a reminiscent smile. "To this day, I have never seen anyone but Pete turn into Superman and try to leap tall buildings in a single bound—on three rum and Cokes."

Jenna nodded, but her attention had returned to the couple on the porch. She watched Damon closely as he listened intently to whatever Elena was telling him. Beside her, Logan observed the same scene. Without meaning to, Jenna spoke her thought aloud. "They just look so good together."

She refrained from pointing out to Logan that he had liked Liam Davis, who had turned out to be a world-class rat. That wouldn't have done any good anyway, because the whole family had liked Liam. "Can you at least try to give Damon a chance? It would make everything so much easier."

Logan looked at her worried face and gave in with a deliberately suggestive leer. "Okay, beautiful, but it will cost you," he said; then he turned to leave.

Jenna caught his arm. "Cute loincloth," she teased, reaching around his waist to free the towel.

Logan returned the compliment by turning toward her, reaching behind her, and playfully cupping her derriere. "Cute butt," he said and nipped her ear.

x x x

Elena desperately tried to draw her eyes away from Damon and failed miserably. She knew him, had known him for most of her childhood and adolescence, but she wasn't a child or a teenager anymore.

 _Dammit. I have to stop staring at him. I will look in another direction in just a minute. I will. I will stop drooling over him,_ she told herself.

Still, her eyes stayed riveted on Damon, unable to pull her gaze away from the most breath-taking man on the planet. Elena tried to be subtle by taking a sip of wine while she stared, but she was fairly certain her lust was pretty obvious. He was enthralling overwhelmingly beautiful, heart-stopping—in a very male, unconsciously seductive kind of way. It wasn't just his gorgeous face and ripped body that made women stare; it was the entire package. Every action, every word that came out of his mouth exuded confidence, a bold masculinity that no woman could seem to resist. His eyes warmed and his smile genuine as he conversed with Jeremy and Anna at the dining table.

Jenna leaned close to her and whispered, "I understand why you fall for him. He is ridiculously hot!"

She felt her face turned pink. "Aunt Jenna!"

Jenna giggled and she picked up the bottle of wine. "Anyone wants more wine?"

"I will have some," Elena answered.

"I think you have enough tonight," Damon said with a lazy smile. "Remember what happened at the charity ball?"

"Nothing happened," Elena lied, straight-faced. "I bumped into you at the ball after all these years. We laughed and had a few drinks."

"We did more than that," Damon countered.

"We left the hotel in Damon's limousine and went to Damon's penthouse. His penthouse is magnificent." She looked at Jenna and jokingly said, "You won't believe how much the penthouse cost. I don't think we could ever afford it in our lifetime."

Anna's eyes widened with excitement. "Really? How much does it cost?"

"Twenty six million!"

Jenna gaped at Damon. "Twenty six million? Did I hear it right?"

Damon shrugged casually. "It is probably worth more than that right now."

"I was as shocked as you are right now when he told me about the price," Elena told Jenna with a laughing. "But the place is amazing. You would love what Damon has done to the inside of the penthouse. You feel as if you are walking into a beautiful palace, furnished in platinum leather, with touches of brass and gold. There were two curving sofas that faced each other, with an antique coffee table between them."

She'd neatly captured her family's attention, and as Damon listened to her colourful descriptions of everything from the Waterford crystal lamps to the oriental carpet in the living room, he made two more interesting observations about Elena: first, she had an indisputable talent for using words to create a vivid picture, and second, she was not mentioning the penthouse's second-most important feature—its bedroom.

In his mind, he could still see her startling beauty as she lay across the bed's gleaming silver satin comforter, propped up on an elbow, draped in a vivid blue silk gown that provided him with an erotic glimpse of her full breasts above her bodice. Her face had been turned up to his, inviting his kiss, but as he had bent over the bed, he had hesitated. Cold reason and hard logic went to battle against his desire, and they won out over everything else, just as they always did with Damon. Regretfully but resolutely, he had whispered, "No"; then he'd started to draw back.

Her hand lifted, sliding over his shoulder and behind his nape, her fingers gliding into the short hair above his open shirt collar, and he had looked into eyes as brown as almond and as vulnerable as a hurt child's. "No," he repeated, but he heard the hesitation and regret in his voice. So had Elena.

Elena switched to a description of the balcony and the view from the balcony, and he wondered whether she had not mentioned the bedroom out of delicacy, embarrassment, or actual lack of memory. It was hard to believe she could remember that the interior of the penthouse in details and forget about the bedroom. She had slept on his bed. On the other hand, she had forgotten much about throwing up and ruining her gown and his tuxedo; Damon supposed it was equally possible she'd forgotten about the time they had spent in his bedroom.

Elena paused in her story to serve herself some of the roasted vegetables that had just been passed to her, and Logan seized the opportunity to proceed where his wife had left off: "Tell us about yourself, Mr Salvatore," he said.

"Please call me Damon, Mr Fell," he said politely.

"Tell us about yourself, Damon," he corrected, though Damon noticed he did not suggest he call him by anything other than Mr Fell.

Damon deliberately referred to his present, not his past. "I live in Los Angeles, but I travel a great deal on business. In fact, I'm gone about two weeks out of every four."

He dismissed that, peered at him intently above the rim of his wine glass, and bluntly inquired, "Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No, I do not," he informed Logan.

A disappointed look creased his brows, but he persevered. "Do you plan to get married?"

Jenna touched his arm. "Logan, why don't you help me with the dessert?"

Logan's gaze never left Damon. "Are you planning to get married at some stage?"

"It is not out of the question." Damon glanced at Elena. "When I find the right woman."

"What's for dessert? I can't wait for dessert." Elena asked, anxious to change the subject. "I have got an idea. Why don't we go to the park to watch the fireworks after dessert?"

"Jeremy and I are going over to my mother's place after dessert," Anna said.

Jenna stood up. "I prefer to stay inside the house where I can keep myself warm and comfortable."

"We will stay at home and watch a movie instead," Logan said dryly.

"Your uncle Logan has made apple pie for dessert." Jenna grabbed her husband's arm. "Come and give me a hand."

Logan stood up and followed his wife into the kitchen. Elena looked at Damon apologetically and muffled a sorry at him.

He smiled back at her. "Do you want to watch the fireworks?"

She took a sip of her wine. "Caroline insists that I should join her."

He frowned. "You mean to join the geek."

"Who's the geek?" Jeremy asked, amused.

"Aaron is not a geek," Elena explained. "He is a colleague of Caroline."

Damon rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"Are you going to the park tonight?" Anna asked Elena. "It will be crowded. Everyone from town will be there at the town hall."

"Maybe," Elena mumbled.

Damon wasn't keen to see Elena going out with Aaron. In a deceptively casual tone, he said, "The park isn't the only place to watch the fireworks. There's another other place that offers the sort of atmosphere and privacy required for what I have in mind."

"Where is that?" Elena asked.

"My secret place," he said, his voice nonchalant, though his eyes smouldered.

x x x

 _I'm never going to live through this night._

Damon had to swallow a groan as he watched Elena sit in front of the fireplace in his house and moan as she took her first bite of the s'more he'd created for her. He watched her eat the graham cracker, melted chocolate, and toasted marshmallow concoction: her eyes closed, and her tongue darted out to catch the drops of chocolate and marshmallow that stuck to her lips. Never had chocolate seemed so erotic.

 _Damn. I want her._

Damon's possessive instincts nailed him in the gut, and he could barely contain the gnawing desire to have her closer, lick those delectable lips himself. He would be at the task long after the damn chocolate and marshmallow were gone.

 _I shouldn't have come to Mystic Falls._

Yep. He had known, and if he were honest, he would admit that her being here was part of the allure that had brought him to Mystic Falls. Sure, he wanted to see the property Enzo mentioned to him. But he would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that knowing Elena was going to be here was both a deterrent…and a temptation. The appeal of seeing her again had won, the victory against his willpower coming pretty damn easily.

"The s'more is delicious."

Elena's voice interrupted Damon's thoughts. After they had left her house, he had driven her to his house. She looked surprised when his car came to a halt at the driveway.

"You can watch the fireworks in my backyard," he explained. "Stefan and I used to stay up late on New Year Eve and then we would come here to watch the fireworks."

He had made s'more for her while they waited for the clock to strike twelve.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he finally replied huskily.

She finished the last of her s'more and licked her fingers. "Aren't you going to make one for yourself? I know you want the chocolate. That was delicious."

 _Damn! Not the finger licking. Is she trying to kill me?_

As he watched that pink tongue stroke over her fingers, he wished that she had put it to work somewhere on his body, preferably south of his navel.

Damon willed his dirty mind to shut up. It had been a good night and he didn't want to spoil it. They'd come back here to his house after they had stopped by the all-night market to get the things they needed to make s'mores. Then they settled by the fire. "I will," he agreed. "I was just busy watching you. You look like you enjoyed it." He had enjoyed it, too, but he now sat on an unrelenting hard-on.

"I did." She nodded her head. "I don't let myself have chocolate very often anymore."

"Why?" He shoved a marshmallow onto the toasting stick and held it over the fire.

Elena rolled her eyes at him. "I think I have plump genes. I'm not exactly thin, Damon."

Damon's eyes roamed over her body covetously. She appeared to be in good physical shape. She was…perfect.

"I think your genes look just fine," he answered hungrily. She was curved in the right places. Her soft, warm body fit against his as if she had been designed to be there. "You are beautiful."

She gave him a surprised stare, and for just a moment, Damon got lost in her brown-almond gaze, her eyes liquid and soft.

"You are on fire," Elena exclaimed, half amused, half alarmed.

It took Damon a second to realize she meant his marshmallow. He pulled it out of the flames and blew out the fiery blob. "I like them burnt," he lied shamelessly as he smashed the blackened marshmallow between the chocolate and graham cracker. Just the melted chocolate made it worth eating the burnt marshmallow.

She wrinkled her nose at him as she watched him eat the gooey mess. "I thought you had sold off this house when you left Mystic Falls."

"I didn't," he said. "And I will never sell off this house."

"It must be tough for you all these years," she said softly.

Damon swallowed the last of his burnt marshmallow s'more. "There is a saying – no pain, no gain. It was difficult trying to pay off the mortgage for this house. I struggled for the first year after I left Mystic Falls and I nearly lost this house."

Elena felt sorry for him. She could sense the fear in him when he realised he was going to lose his home.

"But I made it through. Got a job with pretty good wages in the end." He shoved another marshmallow onto the toasting stick. "When Stefan got into college, I took up the job in Venezuela. They paid me twenty thousand when I signed up the contract and I left the money for Stefan. Stefan got a scholarship a year later."

"How long were you in Venezuela?"

He took a bite of the marshmallow. "Two years. It was hard work but the pay was great. And I had a huge amount of bonus at the end of my contract. Without that job, I don't think I could earn my first bucket of gold."

"You are very good in what you do," she said. "My parents thought highly of you. They believed you would turn out to be successful. And here you are now – rich and successful."

"Rich and successful. Don't forget cold and ruthless."

"You have a good heart, Damon," she said.

He threw his head back and roared with laughter.

"What? You do," Elena answered firmly, getting annoyed.

He sobered slightly and shot her a wicked smile. "I'm an asshole, Elena."

She couldn't dispute that. Anyone who was as rich as Damon had a part of them that was ruthless. "Just on the surface," she mused quietly.

"You would be surprised how deeply the asshole part of me goes." He let out a masculine sigh. "Sweetie, don't think too highly of me. I won't change who I'm."

Damon didn't need to change. He just needed someone who understood him.

Elena was yanked from her thoughts as he reached out to pull her up from her feet. "It's almost twelve," he said.

Five!

Four!

Three!

Two!

One!

The clock struck twelve.

"Happy New Year, Elena" The velvety, rich baritone was so close that Elena could feel the hair at her temple flutter as heated breath hit her cheek. Her body shuddered with an involuntary response as large, warm hands landed on her shoulders firmly and turned her around to face the voice.

"Happy New Year, Damon," she murmured and smiled at him politely.

Elena felt the heat pulsating between her thighs just from inhaling his musky, woodsy scent, the essence of male pheromones that could make a woman drunk just from breathing him in. It was all she could do not to close her eyes and let herself drown in his deep voice and masculine smell.

She tilted her head back, and she was captivated by his liquid blue eyes. The colour reminded her of the sky on a perfect summer day. Being this close to him was unnerving for her. Defensively, she took a step back; his hands fell off her shoulders.

Damon registered a quick look of disappointment before it was gone, replaced by a mischievous grin, a smile that nearly melted Elena's panties from her body.

"I want my New Year's kiss," he said.

She knew she couldn't refuse completely. She had no reason not to kiss him. He was, after all, a family friend. Carefully, she took a tiny step forward and presented her cheek to him.

Damon closed the distance between them. "That's not exactly what I had in mind, sweetie."

"Are you serious?" she exclaimed.

"Never more so."

"You expect me to kiss you?"

Sliding his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, he tilted his head to one side. "Why not? It won't be the first time."

"I didn't kiss you before."

"That's not how I remember it."

"It was only an act to get back to Liam."

"Fun, wasn't it?"

"Hardly."

He laughed as he sauntered toward her. "Come on, what do you say?"

"No."

"How come?" He had moved so close they were almost touching. His eyes were heavy lidded, impelling. "Scared you might like it again, even more than you did the first time?"

His challenge was as brassy as a trumpet. No Gilbert, particularly Elena, had ever backed down from a dare. She had picked up every gauntlet her brother had ever tossed down. If she hadn't, she would have been called a chicken and a cry baby. Damon had probably guessed that and was using it to goad her. Even so, Elena couldn't back down from such a flagrant challenge.

"Oh, what the hell? A New Year's kiss. What's the big deal?"


	9. Chapter 9

The big deal was that he knew how to kiss.

The big deal was that if a panel of expert kissers were ever asked to appear on a TV show, Damon Salvatore would serve as chairman.

The big deal was that she felt the kiss straight through her body to her toes.

She had planned to keep the kiss short and chaste, to show him that she wasn't intimidated by his dare. Even when he cupped her head between his hands and tilted it back like he meant business, she hadn't panicked. She could handle this. He was only a man. This was just a kiss.

But before she realized quite how he had accomplished it, her lips had been seduced to separate and she was receiving his tongue. Receiving was the appropriate word. He hadn't forced his way inside her mouth with brutal thrusts. He didn't make hit or miss stabs at the seam of her lips like some of her less talented boyfriends in the past had done in their vain attempts to thaw her.

His tongue entered non-aggressively, stroked lazily, explored leisurely, tasted thoroughly. The only thing abrupt and shocking was her response. His lips were firm, not loose and floppy. He applied just the right amount of pressure and a delightful degree of suction. His mastery was startling, but too marvellous to stop. It would be like cutting off the hands of a gifted magician.

Damon spun his own kind of spell. Her stomach fluttered weightlessly, yet her limbs felt heavy. She was lightheaded, but her earlobes throbbed with an infusion of pressure. Her breasts tingled, especially her nipples. Between her thighs she experienced a dull, feverish ache.

Without releasing her mouth he moved his hands from her head to her shoulders. They slid down her back, then over her derriere. He pulled her against the front of his body.

Feeling his hardness, Elena whimpered. Her knees went weak, much as they had the night at the charity ball. Her bones seemed to have liquefied, so she leaned into him for support. Her mouth clung to his. She laid her hands on his shirt, her fingers involuntarily curling into his sturdy chest.

"Damn, Elena," he muttered, momentarily lifting his lips off hers and gazing down at her.

Her eyelids were afflicted with the same lassitude as the rest of her body. She could barely lift them. Later, she knew she would bitterly regret this, but right now, she thought she would die if he didn't go on kissing her.

Apparently he was of the same mind because he walked her backward and didn't stop until her back came up against the wall near the fireplace.

As his head lowered to hers again, she reached for his lips with her own. When his tongue slid into her sweetly receptive mouth, he made a low, wanting sound and angled his body against hers, pressing into her softness. She reached up and sank her fingers in his hair, moaning against his mouth as she felt the strands between her fingers, relishing the feel of him. Of Damon.

By the time they broke apart for breath, they were panting. Their faces were flushed, their bodies on fire with yearning, their loins pounding with lust.

"Damn," he murmured again, burying his face in her neck.

He kissed it hungrily, with an open mouth, drawing her skin against his teeth. She had threatened to murder the last man who had left a mark on her. Now, she ran her hands up and down the rippling muscles of Damon's back, dropping her head back and giving him access to her throat.

"Damn, Elena," he told her hungrily. His face was buried in her hair and she quivered from the heat of his breath on her neck. "Watching you eating the s'more was killing me."

Coming back to reality, Elena tried to pull away from him. "Damon, I…"

"Don't," he growled. His arms tightened around her. "Don't tell me that you didn't want that and a whole lot more as much as I do."

She couldn't tell him that, because it would have been a lie.

"You know what just happened, Elena?" Damon said huskily.

"Yes. And I hate myself right now," she replied in a confused voice, her body still humming from the feelings that Damon had wrung from her body with only an impassioned kiss. "I just broke up with my fiancé and I shouldn't be kissing another man. It was a mistake." She wasn't sure how to truly justify her actions, but she had to try.

"Don't," he requested in a gruff voice. "You didn't love Liam. You never have."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because," he whispered, "less than five minutes ago you set me on fire. You may think it was a mistake but it was no mistake for me. I didn't feel guilty about kissing you and neither should you."

His mouth was a fraction of an inch from hers when the shrill ring of his phone made her lurch out of his arms. He reached into his pocket, grabbed the device and glanced at the caller ID.

"I have to take this call. But I will be with you in five minutes," Damon promised.

Closing his office door behind him, Damon sat down at his desk and answered the phone. "What's Salvatore Industries selling for?" he asked Trevor, and when the other man answered, he said, "Start buying it when the shares market reopens on the third. Use the same technique we used when we decided to acquire Smith Electronics. Keep it quiet." He hung up and rang Enzo. "I want you to check out every member on Salvatore Industries' board of directors. One of them may be for sale. Find out who he is and what his price is."

Not once in the years they had been together, in the corporate battles they had fought and won, had Damon ever resorted to anything as indefensible as bribery. "Damon, you are talking about plain bribery..."

"This is not bribery. We will use money to buy votes on his board. When I'm through with that vindictive old bastard, he will be taking his orders from me in his own boardroom!"

"All right," Enzo said after a hesitant pause. "But this will have to be handled very discreetly."

"There's more," Damon instructed, walking to the bar cabinet. He jerked a bottle of bourbon out of the cabinet, poured some into a glass, and took a long swallow. "I want to know everything there is to know about Salvatore Industries' operation. Work with Trevor on it. In two days, I want to know everything about their finances, their executives. Most of all, I want to know exactly where the are the most vulnerable."

"I gather you intend to take them over."

Damon tossed down another long swallow of his drink. "I will decide that later. What I want right now is enough stock to control them."

"What about that Mystic Falls property?"

A mirthless smile twisted Damon's lips. "I want it as well."

"The owner is very happy with our contract. We will sign it after the New Year holiday."

"Good."

There was a short silence on the other end. Hesitantly, Enzo said, "Since I'm going to be in the front lines alongside you in this battle with Zach Salvatore, I would like to at least know how it got started in the first place."

Had any of his other executives asked that question, Damon would have verbally flayed him. Trust was a luxury that men in Damon's financial stratum couldn't afford. He had learned, as others who had made it to the top had also learned, that it was risky, even dangerous to confide too much to anyone. More often than not, they used the information to garner favours elsewhere; sometimes they used it simply to prove they were truly a confidant of a famous and successful man. Of all the people he knew, there were only three whom Damon trusted implicitly: his brother, his sister-in-law Lexi, and Enzo. Enzo had been with him since the old days, when he was getting by on daring and guts, building an empire on a foundation of audacity and hunches—and very little real capital. He trusted Enzo because he had proven his loyalty. And, to a certain extent, he trusted Enzo because, like him, he didn't come from privileged backgrounds and fancy prep schools. "Zach Salvatore is my uncle." Damon replied after a reluctant pause, "my father was Giuseppe Salvatore."

"Jesus, it must have been pretty damned bad for you to keep up a vendetta all this time. What did Zach Salvatore do?"

Damon took another swallow of his drink to wash away the bitterness of the words, the memory. "My father was the president of Salvatore Industries. Twenty-two years ago, Zach Salvatore set a trap for my father to sell all his shares of Salvatore Industries to him."

"Jesus!"

"We lost everything because of Zach Salvatore," Damon added. "My father had to work at the supermarket and I had to take up a few part-time jobs to support our family. I was only fifth-teen when I started doing part-time jobs. I had vowed to take back everything that belonged to my father."

Enzo reacted with angry loyalty and a bitter, sarcastic laugh. "When we are through with him, he is going to wish to God he hadn't started this war."

x x x

For some reason, memories of the dream began to play through Elena's mind after the kiss just now. It had seemed so real, and yet… not. That strange, floating bed, the demon lover who made her behave in ways she never normally would. Insistent mouth—gentle hands… tender… rough. It felt so familiar. It felt as if she had been kissed by the same mouth before.

She shook her head, embarrassed by the direction of her thoughts, but the memories came back again, hovering at the edges of her mind. The hands that touched her were warm and gentle. Somehow, she had the same sensation when Damon held her just now. And the way he kissed…...

Behind her, Damon strode silently into the living room. "I'm sorry…"

With a stifled cry, Elena whirled around, her hand clutching a fistful of silk shirt over her heart, then she laughed. "Oh, it's you…"

He eyed her worriedly as he headed to the liquor cabinet. "Who were you expecting—Jack the Ripper?"

"Something like that," she said dryly, standing up.

"Am I making you nervous?" he asked.

"No, of course not," she untruthfully assured him. His eyes held hers as he took out a bottle of bourbon and poured some into a glass.

"You want a drink?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, thanks."

A knowing smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he raised the glass to his mouth. "I am making you nervous."

She thought quickly for something to blame her reaction on, and came up with a partial truth. "It has nothing to do with you, really. While you were on the phone, I started thinking of a dream I had that night. That night when we met again at the charity ball. It was—well—a very um ... graphic… dream in some ways. It seemed so real."

He took a long swallow of the bourbon, an odd gleam lighting his eyes. "What sort of a dream was it?"

"It was a thriller movie but I can't remember the title. It was about a woman and the devil. The devil wanted her."

Damon thought back and remembered something about demonic possession, and then he nodded. "I vaguely recall the movie. The woman in it was drugged and then forced to have sex with the devil."

Elena nodded. "Well," she rubbed her hands nervously, "that night, I was that woman."

Damon went still.

Blithely unaware of the verbal blow she had just delivered, she looked out the window into the heavy darkness. "I'd better be on my way. It's late."

"I was the devil," Damon blurted out.

Elena's eyes widened. "What?"

"I was the devil who forced you to have sex with," he said sardonically.

Elena's brain simply shut down. It blocked the pathways between hearing and logic. "I'd better go now." She did not dare to look at him now. Instead she rushed to the door.

Damon's voice stopped her cold just as she was about to twist the knob.

"We slept together that night, Elena."

For a second she could not breathe. She looked down at her trembling fingers. "It's late. I think it's time you take me home."

He walked past her and opened the door. "Fine."

He was gone, out into the night, before she could think of an appropriate response. She heard the less than civilized growl of the Camaro's engine. The lights came on, blinding her.

A vivid mental image of a hapless deer paralyzed by the beams of an oncoming car galvanized her into action.

She slammed the front door shut behind her. Hand held high to shield her eyes from the merciless glare of the lights, she rushed toward the passenger side door.

They drove to her house in complete silence. When he brought the Camaro to a halt at the driveway, she got out of the car as soon as she could and ran up the stairs to the porch without waiting for him to escort her.

At the door she paused to dig out her key. Her hand trembled slightly as she unlocked the door. When she finally got into the house, she turned to look back at Damon. He was still standing there, watching her. She raised one hand in farewell and then quickly closed the door.

Safe behind the door of her own bedroom, Elena, like an automated machine, went about the routine of getting ready for bed. In the shower, she mentally recited the names of all the antibiotics available in the country. As she blew her hair dry, she felt a compulsion to remember all the names of her classmates in medical school. As she put on her pyjamas, she began preparing her Christmas list for next year.

As she walked over to her dresser to change the wake-up time on her clock radio, she burst into tears.

Snatching a handful of tissues from a box beside her bed, she marched over to the chaise longue at the far end of the room, flopped onto it, and gave free rein to the tears that had been building up inside her for days. For the first time since she had found out about Liam's engagement with Nadia, she gave in to self-pity. She wallowed in it. With her hands over her face and the tissues pressed to her eyes, she drew her knees up against her chest and rocked back and forth, sobbing.

She thought about the words Liam had said about her. "Bastard," she whispered, crying harder.

She thought of Liam seeing Nadia behind her back while they were still dating. "Monster!" she wept, rocking back and forth.

She thought of her kissing Damon just now, and she cried harder. "Idiot!"

She thought of Damon gallantly nursing her through a hangover and grinning good-naturedly as he recounted her drunken antics of the night before.

She thought of the dream that wasn't a dream. She thought of a man who tried to refuse her idiotic attempt at seduction. But she had thrown herself at him, and because Damon had always been kind, he had overridden his personal aversion to the idea and made love to her.

In return for his kindness, his thoughtfulness, his self-sacrifice, she had just delivered the ultimate insult by likening his lovemaking to a terrifying scene out of a thriller movie. How could she think that Damon was a demon which forced her to make love with him? He had so much pride and he must have been twice as much hurt by her remark as he had been by her having forgotten the incident.

A fresh stream of guilty tears poured from her eyes, and Elena leaned her forehead on her knees, her shoulders shaking with shame and sorrow.

She wept until her head ached and the well of tears and regret finally ran dry; then she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. It wasn't Damon's fault. He did nothing wrong. She thought through that situation for another minute, then got off the chaise longue and picked up her phone. She owed Damon the most abject, sincere apology.

With his shoulder propped against the wall of his bedroom and his jaw clenched, Damon cursed himself for hurting Elena. He should have kept his mouth shut. Why on earth did he tell her that they slept together? He was a jerk, Damon thought with a blaze of self-loathing, a devil that destroyed anyone he touched. He was cold and ruthless; he wasn't fit to be around decent people.

There were any numbers of women he could have taken to his bed that night. Elena Gilbert shouldn't be one of them; she was special. Exquisite. Alluring. Untouchable.

Irresistible…

He'd had no right to go near her that night, and he'd been a filthy bastard to have sexual intercourse with her. He had never meant for that to happen. He had convinced himself it wouldn't happen. But he couldn't stop himself from kissing her. He couldn't stop himself from wanting her.

Talk about self-control and conviction. He had none of that, especially when he was with Elena.

Oh yes, his ego was hurt when Elena told him that their lovemaking was like a tarrying scene out of a thriller movie. He felt insulted. But he had no right to an ego where she was concerned. He shouldn't have slept with her that night. She was drunk! He had taken advantage of her!

 _I need more bourbon,_ he thought. Just then his phone rang and he reached for it. "Hello?"

"Damon, I have some things I need to tell you."

It was Elena. Damon straightened away from the door, composed himself. "Elena…" he said, his voice carefully expressionless.

"Can we talk?" she said shakily. "Please?"

She was going to tell him off for taking advantage of her. She was probably never going to see him again. "I think I already know what you want to say," he said.

"First of all, I want to apologize for saying something so mean. I shouldn't have implied that you were…the demon. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

Damon remained silent, his dark brows drawn into a frown of utter disbelief.

"Next, I want to tell you how much I regret what happened that night."

"I don't want to run the risk of looking too far afield for explanations," he said wryly, "but is it possible that night happened because we are attracted to each other? I sure as hell wanted you. And I know you wanted me." A lazy smile appeared on his face. "In fact," he said softly, "I have it from an unimpeachable source that you used to want me, a long time ago."

There was silence on the other end.

"I refuse to regret or apologize for what happened that night," he said. "We wanted each other. It was as simple as that. More importantly, we like each other, and we are friends. Is there any part of that you don't agree with?"

"No," she said. "What are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting that we spend some time together. Jus the both of us," he said. "Think about it. Will you?"

Elena hesitated. "Yes."

"In that case," he said in a polite but firm voice, "why don't we have dinner together tomorrow? I can cook."

She hesitated. "At your place? I mean, I don't want to have to…to have to…"

His lips twitched with a smile as her voice trailed off. Obviously, she was worried that he would try to manoeuvre her into bed. "Just dinner," he promised.

Her relief came out in a laughing sigh. "Okay. Why don't I meet you at your place at six? I promise aunt Jenna and Anna that we will go shopping after lunch tomorrow."

"Good enough," he said, completely willing to adapt his schedule to hers as long as she didn't try to avoid him. "It will give me enough time to prepare for dinner."

"Well, good night."

He smiled. "Good night, Elena."

x x x

"Ken just called me and cancelled our meeting," Sarah Salvatore said, as she walked into the living room and sank into the sofa across from Zach Salvatore looking angry and harassed. "It seems that they accepted a ten-million-dollar contract on that land. The purchaser wanted the deal kept confidential until now, which is why Ken stalled about meeting with me. The property is now owned by the real estate division of a large conglomerate."

Sick with disappointment and adamantly unwilling to accept defeat, Zach said, "Contact the new owners, and find out if they will sell it."

"I already have, and they are perfectly willing to sell," Sarah said, her voice edged with sarcasm.

Surprised by her tone, Zach prodded, "Then let's stop wasting time and start negotiating with them."

"I have already tried. They want thirty million and that figure isn't negotiable."

"Thirty million! That's ridiculous!" Zach exclaimed, half rising from the sofa. "It is insane! The property is worth twelve million, tops, in today's economy and they paid only ten for it!"

"I pointed that out to the director of their real estate division, but his attitude is take it or leave it."

Zach got up and restlessly walked over to the windows, trying to decide what to do next. The Mystic Falls property, with its location near the Dunham, was the most desirable site for building a resort that he had ever seen anywhere. He wanted that resort built there, and he wasn't going to relent. "Are they planning to develop it themselves?" he asked, his arms crossed over his chest, lost in thought.

"No."

"You said a conglomerate owns it. Which one?"

Sarah Salvatore, the only daughter of Zach Salvatore, was obviously aware the feud between Damon Salvatore and her father and she hesitated several seconds before she answered. "Intercorp."

Disbelief and fury made him lurch upright and glare at her. "Are you joking!" he exploded.

Her scowl turned ironic. "Do I look like a woman who's joking?"

Aware that Sarah's reluctance to mention Intercorp made it unnecessary to pretend this was purely a business battle, Zach said furiously, "I will Damon Salvatore for this!"

"I think he wants revenge."

Emotions ran riot through his entire body; he stared at Sarah in rage and disbelief while her prediction that Damon was out for vengeance banished any doubt that Intercorp's purchase of the land had been a coincidence.

"What do you want to do next, father?"

His stormy blue eyes snapped with anger. "Next, after I kill him? Then I want to feed him to the fish! That vicious, scheming…" He broke off, schooling his features into a semblance of calm. I will have to think this over, Sarah. Let's discuss it later."

When Sarah left, Zach began to pace. He paced the length of his living room, back and forth across the windows, trying to conquer his fury so that he could be objective and effective. He had underestimated Damon Salvatore, Zach thought. Now he was attacking Salvatore Industries, and that panicked and infuriated him more than anything he might have tried to do to him personally. He had to be stopped—and now. God knew what else he planned to do—or worse, what schemes he had already put into motion.

He marched over to the phone and dialled a number.

Phil Carter, his lawyer answered on the first ring.

"Damon Salvatore bought the land," Zach said tersely. "What are we going to do?"

"He wants a revenge," Phil said bluntly. "from everything I have read and heard about him, Damon Salvatore is a logical, intelligent man— coldly, almost inhumanly logical according to some people. Logical, busy men don't go out of their way to get revenge for petty grievances. It's a waste of their time, and in Damon Salvatore's case, his time is worth a great deal of money. But every man has a limit to what he is willing to take. He wants a fight, he's spoiling for it! And that makes me very, very uneasy."

It made Zach even more uneasy. "What should I do? I want that land."

"Damon Salvatore knows that too."

"Damn it!" Zach cursed. "Tell me what are we going to do now."

"I will think about it. We will work out a strategy. Try not to worry too much."

"I will try," Zach promised, and when he hung up, he saw Sarah rushed into the living room, looking tense. "What's happened that I don't know about?"

"A friend of mine saw him," she said, trying to catch her breath. "He is here in Mystic Falls."

"Who is in Mystic Falls?"

"Damon Salvatore."


	10. Chapter 10

Damon finished cutting up the onion and tossed the pieces into the food processor. He added the pitted olives, three different kinds in all, to the onion. Then he dumped the rinsed capers and some freshly squeezed lemon juice into the bowl. After he had snapped the lid onto the food processor, he switched on the food processor. He thought about Elena while the machine turned the mixture inside the bowl into tapenade. A gut-deep sense of pleasurable anticipation rippled through him.

 _She should be here any minute,_ he thought, glancing at his watch.

He heard the sound of a car's engine in the driveway just as the winter twilight descended. He turned off the food processor and left the kitchen.

It was almost six o'clock. Perfect timing.

He crossed the threadbare carpet, opened the front door and went out onto the porch. The little rush of excitement faded at the sight of the man coming toward him. It was Zach Salvatore. Not Elena Gilbert.

Zach Salvatore hadn't changed much, Damon thought. He used a cane, but he still looked strong and fit. He could have passed for a man fifteen years younger. There was a sharp glint in his slightly faded blue eyes. The hard lines of his face had softened little with age. There was a slight stoop to his shoulders these days, and he had lost some muscle with the years, but the physical changes were well concealed by his undiminished will and determination to control his world and everyone in it.

This confrontation was coming far quicker than he had expected, Damon thought.

"Damon, I heard you were in town for a while," Zach said easily. "It has been a long time."

"It is good to see you again, Zach," Damon said, never losing his cool.

"You look wonderful," Zach said.

"You are looking great yourself."

"Happy to tell you that everything is in pretty fair working order, considering the mileage I have put on this body." Zach had already headed for the front door of the house. "Come on, let's go inside. It is cold out here."

He checked his watch. "I have got company scheduled to arrive at any minute. There she is," he said, looking at the SUV that was slowly lurching its way toward them.

As the SUV came to a halt at the driveway, Zach stared with widened eyes at the face of the driver. "Elena Gilbert?"

Elena frowned when she saw Damon and Zach standing at the front door. Everyone in town was aware that Zach Salvatore took over Salvatore Industries from Giuseppe Salvatore. What was Zach doing here? She thought.

"Hello, gentlemen," Elena said as she slid out of her SUV. She flashed a warm smile at Damon. "Lovely night, isn't it?"

Damon smiled back at her. "Dinner is almost ready."

Zach stood transfixed. He gazed at Elena as if she were a mermaid who had just appeared at the edge of the bay.

"Am I interrupting anything?" she asked politely as she watched Zach's expression.

"Nothing important," Damon said dryly.

"It is a little chilly out here," she said. "Why don't we come inside?"

"Elena, why don't you make the drinks?" Damon suggested. Tipping his head toward the right, he said, "There is a liquor cabinet in the island in the kitchen. Bourbon on rocks for me, please. You can pick between plain coke and lemonade if you want a non-alcoholic drink." He turned his attention back to Zach. "Zach and I have something to discuss."

Zach followed him into the small office down at the hallway. He surveyed the interior closely. "Things look exactly the same as before."

"I want everything to look the same." Damon allowed the door to close slowly behind him.

"Going to be here for a while?" Zach asked.

"You are the last people on earth I would tell."

"Okay, I get the point. You have got a hot date with Elena Gilbert and I'm in the way." Zach smiled at him. "I won't stay long, I promise."

Damon did not sit down. Instead, he propped one shoulder against the wall and folded his arms. "What is this all about, Zach?"

"Do I have to have a special reason? You are my niece. You and I go back a long way. We are family."

Damon was losing some of his calm. He narrowed his eyes on the man who had changed his life. He knew Zach was trying to get a reaction from him but he refused to bite. "You are here because of that land in Mystic Falls, aren't you?"

Zach's smile stayed in place but he thought he saw it tighten a notch or two.

"You make it sound as though the only thing that might bring me here is business."

"Your tricks won't work on me, Zach. You want that land."

"It will be biggest project for Salvatore Industries…"

"If you want it so badly, just buy it."

"You are asking for thirty million!" Zach's voice roughened with tightly controlled rage. "The property is worth twelve million, tops, in today's economy and you only paid ten!"

With icy calm Damon said, "Take it or leave it."

Zach looked like he wanted to jump across the room and strangle him. Damon looked over the man, who had seemed so much larger than life when he was still a teenager. The man now looked shrunken and old. It was satisfying.

Zach waited a moment longer for his temper to cool, then he drew a long, calming breath. "Damon, you are a logical and intelligent man. You are a businessman who wants to make money. Can't we please try to work out a deal which will benefit both of us?"

"How do you think we can work this deal out?"

"Twelve million," Zach said, smiling at him in relief. "I'm willing to pay you twelve million for that land."

Damon looked at Zach. The man who had ruined his father. He had asked for this meeting because he wanted the land. Damon was glad he wanted the property so badly, because he wasn't going to get them. What Zach was going to get was a war, a war he was going to lose to him ... along with everything he had.

"That's gracious of you, Zach," Damon jeered.

Zach stiffened. "I wish things could have ended differently between your father and me…so that at least we are still family now."

"Family?" Damon repeated with biting irony. "The last time my father treated you as a family, it cost him his company, and a hell of a lot else."

"Damon, listen to me," Zach said, suddenly desperate to make things right between them. "I'm willing to forget the past and…"

"You are willing to forget the past?"

"I said I was willing to forget the past, and I am. If you will agree to sell that land to me, I will do everything I can to smooth things over for you."

"Just how do you think you can smooth things over for me, my dear uncle Zach?" he asked, his voice reeking with sarcastic amusement.

"For a start, I can give you up to fifth-teen million for that land."

Damon was revolted by his wheedling and hypocrisy. Zach needed something from him now, and Damon was glad it was desperately important to him. Because he wasn't going to get it. "You are willing to pay me fifth-teen million for that land in Mystic Falls, right?" When Zach nodded, Damon continued. "And the land is very, very important to you?"

"I want it more than I have ever wanted anything," Zach averred eagerly. "You—you will cooperate, won't you?" he said, searching Damon's unreadable face.

"No." He said it with such polite finality that for a moment Zach's mind went blank.

"No?" Zach repeated in angry disbelief. "I'm giving you twelve…"

"Forget it!" he snapped,

"Forget it? Everything I want hinges on it!"

"That's too damned bad."

"You piece of crap!" Zach yelled at him

"Thirty million. Take it or leave it. It's your choice."

"I ran Salvatore Industries successfully, for over twenty years, you pompous piece of trash. You may have the rest of the world fooled but I know who you really are," Zach spat at him.

"I wasn't the boy who couldn't do anything when you took everything from my father. I have made choices to change my life and now you are the one who will have nothing," he said, with a mocking smile.

Zach's fist slammed forward with surprising force. Damon dodged the blow, grabbed Zach's arm in mid swing, then he yanked him forward, spun him around, and jerked his arm up high behind his back. In a soft snarl, he said, "Listen to me very carefully, Zach. Now I have enough money to buy and sell you. You have no power over me. Cross me one more time, I will bury you! Do we understand each other?"

"Let go of my arm, you son of a bitch."

Damon shoved him forward and stalked toward the door. When he opened the door, Elena was standing at the doorway, holding a glass of bourbon in her hand.

Damon shoved his hand through his hair. Just what he needed.

"Do you want something to drink, Mr Salvatore?" she asked nervously.

"He won't be staying long," Damon said bluntly. "I didn't prepare enough food for three."

"This isn't the last you will hear from me, Damon," Zach said as he stalked to the door. "I will get you back for this, just you wait."

x x x

The tension in the living room was charged with remnants of the quarrel she had interrupted.

When Elena had heard the sound of the heated argument coming from the office, her first instinct had been to stay away. She was fairly certain that was the course of action Damon would have preferred.

She might have done just that, sparing everyone, including herself, this awkward scene. But halfway down the hall she had overheard Damon. _Now I have enough money to buy and sell you. You have no power over me. Cross me one more time, I will bury you!_

The ruthless in his words had stopped her in her tracks, cancelling all thought of staying away from the office.

Given the incredible injustices done to him and his family, Elena could understand why he was retaliating in ways that had seemed so extraordinarily vicious. She understood the reason for the underlying enmity she had sensed in him. She understood it all, including his furious parting remark to Zach.

Nonchalantly she watched Damon where he stood at the window, his glass gripped in his hand. They had eaten dinner in silence. And he was still as silent as he had been since dinner just now.

Finally, to get it over with, she spoke to him. And being Elena, she went straight to the heart of the problem.

"What's wrong, Damon?"

"Nothing." Damon stared out the window, pretending to be engrossed in something beyond the glass.

"What nothing?"

Damon shook his head.

"Damon…" With an effort, she stood up. "This is about your uncle, isn't it?"

"It's late. You better leave," Damon said tonelessly.

He was shutting her out as completely as if she weren't there. Elena got mad.

"What does it take to show you that you can trust me?" Elena was behind Damon now. "I'm your friend."

"I'm well aware of it."

Elena sighed. She reached out, very carefully, to put her fingertips on the elbow of his leather jacket. She spoke as precisely and unemotionally as she could. "And a friend usually knows when their friend is hurting."

His jaw tightened. "You are wrong, Elena. I'm not hurting. I don't care about Zach."

"I know what Zach has done to your family," she said gently. "You despise him and you are willing to go to any lengths to get your revenge."

As if indifferent to her answer, he said coolly, "I'm ruthless and cold. You don't like me, do you, Elena?"

"I do like you, Damon," she answered with an affectionate smile to take the sting out of her words, "but I don't like you hurt people without regret, just as Zach does."

"I do what I think needs to be done," he replied, tossing down the bourbon in his glass. "Zach Salvatore deserves no mercy."

The change in his voice - the force in it - hit Elena like a whiplash. It hurt...and it frightened her. Damon was serious.

"Damon…"

"Leave me alone!"

"At least turn around and talk with me face-to-face."

"Elena." It was a whisper. "Just go home."

"You are so good at that, aren't you?" Elena's own voice was cold now. Recklessly, angrily, she moved in even closer. "At pushing people away. If you keep pushing people away, you will end up alone. Why are you doing this to yourself? You can…"

Damon whirled, caught her precisely, held her locked in an unbreakable grip. Then, with a swoop of his head like a falcon on a mouse, he kissed her. He was more than strong enough to hold her still without hurting her.

The kiss was hard and long and for quite a while Elena resisted out of sheer instinct. Damon's body was warm against hers. The way he was holding her - if she put enough pressure on those particular points, it would hurt her possibly seriously. And then - she knew - he would release her. But did she really know what she knew? Was she prepared to break a bone to test it?

He was stroking her hair, which was so unfair, curling the ends and crushing them in his fingers…He knew her weak spots. Not just every woman's weak spots. He knew hers; he knew how to make her want to cry out in pleasure and how to soothe her.

Suddenly, not only were his hands withdrawn, but his warmth as well. Elena struggled to open her eyes and pull him into focus. He was standing several feet away from her. His hands were now planted firmly in the hip pockets of his pants, as though he didn't trust them. He was gnawing his lips and cursing beneath his breath.

She and Damon were left staring at each other, both breathing hard. Damon's sleek hair was mussed, making him look rakish as a buccaneer. His face was flushed. His eyes dropped to watch Elena automatically massaging her wrists. She could feel pins and needles now: she was getting back some circulation. Once he had looked away, he couldn't seem to look her in the eye again.

But she kept her eyes on Damon's face. His mouth was swollen. And that was...unfair. Damon's pout was a part of his most basic artillery. He had always had the most beautiful mouth she had ever seen on anyone, man or woman. The mouth, the hair, the half-drooping lids, the heavy lashes, the delicacy of his jawline...unfair, even to someone like Elena, who had long ago gotten past interest in a person because of some accident of beauty.

But she had never seen that mouth swollen, the perfect hair disordered, the eyelashes trembling because he was looking everywhere except at her and trying not to show it.

"Why have you been refusing to talk to me?" she asked, and her voice was almost steady.

Damon's sudden stillness was perfection like all his other perfections. He stared at a spot in the carpet that by rights ought to have broken into flames.

Then, finally, he lifted those huge eyes to hers. It was so hard to tell anything about Damon's eyes because he had always been able to hide his emotions well.

Damon said, softly, "I'm bad, Elena. I'm bad for you. No matter how much money I have made, or how many beautiful, famous women I have slept with, I would still be the ruthless, arrogant, and vicious person everyone talks about. I'm greedy, unscrupulous and…"

She smiled. "You mean this is just you being a bastard?"

"You are not going to leave, are you?" he whispered.

Elena shook her head.

"You are really not afraid of me?"

"Oh, I'm afraid." Again Elena felt that inward shiver. But she knew how she felt about Damon. She was certain she had fallen for him and there was no way that she could stop. Especially not when he looked at her like that.

Damon watched her moving toward him. When she closed the distance between them, her voice was low and shaky. "I don't know why, but I'm more scared this time than I was the last."

Damon smiled sombrely as his hand lifted to her cheek, then curved around her nape. "So am I."

In the lengthening silence, they remained perfectly still, the only movement the slow stroking of Damon's thumb against her neck, as both of them sensed that they were about to take the first step down a new uncharted path. Elena sensed it subconsciously; Damon recognized it with complete clarity and, even so, there was something infinitely right about what they were going to do.

"I think it is only fair to warn you," he whispered as his hand tightened on her nape, beginning to exert pressure to draw her mouth to his, "that this could turn out to be an even bigger risk than the one you took on Christmas Eve." Elena looked into his smouldering eyes and knew that he was warning her about some sort of deep emotional involvement. "Make up your mind," he whispered huskily.

Without volition, her lips moved closer to his, and her heart began to race with excitement.

 _Decide._

Her eyes drifted closed, and her breath came out in a sigh. She kissed him softly and felt his lips answer, moving on hers, moving with them, while his hands slid down to her arms and tightened. She broke the kiss, and he let her.

"Damon, I…"

He pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her scented hair. "I want you."

"I know. I want you, too. You must know that."

He lifted his head and looked down into her brilliant eyes. He was lost in the vision he saw there. "I need you."

She turned her head and kissed his throat. "Yes. I need you, too."

He swept her up into his arms, and carried her upstairs to the bedroom, before they tumbled onto the bed. Elena landed on top of him, her forehead at his chin, his left hand on her upper arm. Bracing her palms beside his shoulders, she levered her chest off of his and smiled at him. His right hand lifted, and his knuckles stroked softly up her bare arm in a patient caress while his gaze held hers. Then he laid his palm against her cheek, slowing running it back, curving it around her nape, urging her closer. Again.

Her arms went weak, and her breasts flattened against his hard chest as his mouth opened on hers in a deep, hungry kiss. His fingers shoved into her hair, holding her mouth imprisoned, while his arm slanted over her hips and he rolled her onto her side, leaning over her.

His tongue tasted and urged and slowly drove into her mouth while his thighs pressed into her.

Rigid thighs. Demanding.

Her hands pressed him closer; her body strained nearer. He tore his mouth from hers long enough to unbutton her shirt and spread it open, and what he saw nudged him another step closer to the edge. Her breasts were rising and falling rapidly, nearly tumbling out of the sheer, lacy cups of her low-cut brassiere. Her nipples, raised and pointed, strained against the web like lace.

"Damn, Elena," Damon hissed through his teeth. He tugged the shirt off her. Unfastened the bra. Excitement sent another flood of brilliant colours through her when he touched her breasts. She could hardly breathe. All of her senses sharpened and focused.

Then he stood up and removed his clothes. She heard foil tear in the darkness before he came back to her. His hands moved on her again. Her trousers disappeared. They were soon followed by her panties.

He touched the nipple and it tightened more. He bent his head and kissed it, and she moaned aloud and arched her back in a burst of pleasure that startled him with its intensity. Trying to slow himself down, he kissed the other nipple, drawing it into his mouth, and her fingers tightened reflexively in his hair, her back arching higher.

Stimulated by the expression of her pleasure, his body surged in an urgent desire to do more. With an effort, he made himself slow down and rolled her back on top of him. He rubbed his thumbs over her nipples and his own nipples hardened. "Touch me," he whispered to her, half afraid of what would happen when she did.

The shaken sound of his voice made Elena's hands tremble as she bent low over him and covered his nipple with her lips, teasing it with her tongue. When he drew in his breath sharply, Elena felt the sudden jerk of his hips beneath her as if he were inside her, and suddenly she was yanked forward onto the chaise and immediately was pinned beneath him. Together they were caressing hands and eager mouths and urgent limbs shedding clothes to give more pleasure.

Her breasts were beautiful, his body a sculpture, he was master, he was enslaved. His groan was her music and her sigh his benediction. They clung together unmoving, while her body welcomed the slow thrusting heat of him, and what began as a gentle rocking became fierce, demanding thrusts. She strained toward him in trembling need and he drove into her again and again in a desperate desire to take her with him all the way. She cried out and held him when she found it, and he joined her there.

Triumph, satisfaction, a feeling of wholeness and a pounding sense of joy raced through him, a fabulous maelstrom of emotions that he could not begin to sort out. He didn't care. He only knew one thing for certain in that gloriously shattering moment, and that was enough for now.

He was alive.

x x x

Propped up against a mound of feather pillows in the master bedroom's huge bed, Elena gazed at the dishes on the low table in front of the fireplace across the room. They had eaten a late breakfast there, and then Damon had taken her back to bed and made love to her. He had kept her awake most of the night, making love to her with a mixture of demanding urgency and exquisite tenderness that Elena found wildly exciting and tormentingly sweet. Each time he finished, he pulled her into his arms and held her close while they dozed. Now it was past noon, and she was sitting beside him, curved against his body, his arm around her shoulders, his hand lazily caressing her arm. Unfortunately, in daylight, she was finding it far more difficult to cling to the illusion that this was a little cottage where she was safe and warm in bed beside a wonderfully ordinary man who also happened to be her devoted lover. In broad daylight, she was unhappily aware that the man who made love to her with such violent tenderness and need, who groaned with passion in her arms and made her cry out and feel as if she were the only woman who had ever done this with him, had also made love to countless beautiful women. That had been his world—a luxurious, frenetic world populated by rich, beautiful, and powerful people with the right connections.

She knew damned well Damon wanted her.

They were attracted to each other. Wildly attracted.

She was certain she was in love with Damon.

But Damon had his own agenda. He wasn't going to fall in love with her and make undying declarations of love. He simply needed her now, and for some reason God had meant for her to be here for him. All she could do was live each moment as it came, savour it, and memorize it. That meant never asking him for more than he could give, never burdening him with her feelings, and keeping as much of her heart intact as she possibly could. That meant finding a way to keep things as light and frivolous as possible.

"What are you thinking about?" Damon asked.

She turned her head and found him studying her with a concerned frown. "Nothing too profound," she hedged with a bright, artificial smile. "Life in general."

"Tell me about it."

Trying to avoid both his searching gaze and the entire discussion, Elena moved out from under his arm and drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. "It really wasn't worth discussing."

"Why don't you let me decide that."

She shot him a dark look. "Have you always been so persistent?"

"It's one of my most unattractive qualities," he replied smoothly and impenitently. "What were you thinking about—specifically?"

She rolled her eyes at him in laughing exasperation, but when he continued to regard her in waiting silence, she gave in and told him a part of the truth. Perching her chin on her knees to avoid his gaze, she said, "I was thinking how strange life is. Everything can seem completely predictable, and then in one short minute—everything can change."

Damon leaned his head back against the pillows, closed his eyes, and swallowed with relief. He had thought she had regretted going to bed with him. He gave a deep sigh and without opening his eyes, he asked in a flat voice, "Do you want carry on with what we have started, Elena?"

"Are you giving me a choice?" she teased, adhering to her decision to keep things light. As soon as she said it, she saw the imperceptible tightening of his jaw, and she had the strange feeling that she hadn't given him the sort of answer he wanted this time either.

"Yes…" he said after a long pause. "No…I don't know."

There was a short silence.

"After my big screw-up with my engagement," she conceded softly as she leaned back on the pillow, "I tried to figure out what actually went wrong."

"Liam Davis doesn't deserve you."

She nodded. "I know. Looking back, I wasn't heartbroken over losing him. I was furious and I felt humiliated instead. The breakup was an inevitability. He was not right for me."

Damon gave her an arch look. "Where are you going with this?"

Frustration threatened to overwhelm her. "Where the hell do you think I'm going with it? I'm trying to say that the reason my relationship didn't work out because of this tiny glimmer of a feeling inside that I just can't shake."

"What feeling?"

"A feeling telling me that you are not here yet."

"You were looking for me?" he asked.

"Not you." She groped for the words. "Not consciously. I was looking for someone like you. Sort of."

"Are you trying to say that I'm not the man of your dreams? If so, I got to tell you that kind of thing can be awfully rough on a man's ego."

Now she was getting mad. "What I'm saying is that I haven't been looking for a dream man. I have been looking for the real thing. Only I didn't realize it until I saw you again at the charity ball."

The grooves beside his mouth deepened into a full smile that was lazy, complacent, and smug. "Well, why didn't you say so back at the start of this conversation? Now you have found me."

"Yes. And it's perfect, at least for now."

"You are thinking short-term?" he asked, his voice going hard and flat.

"Yes. Nothing lasts forever. I want you to know that I'm not asking for a lifelong commitment. I'm going to live mindfully and in the moment. I want the two of us to be happy."

"Let me get this straight. You are suggesting that we carry on with what we have started, which is, when you get right down to it, an affair."

"Yes. Right. Exactly. An affair."

"Well, damn," Damon said. "You just ruined my whole day."

Shock reverberated through her. "I did?"

"See, I suggested two of us spending time together so that I could ask you to be my girlfriend, or at least think about it." He shook his head. "No, I don't want you to be my girlfriend. I want you to be my wife."

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She stared at him, stunned. She could not seem to catch her breath.

"I know it's too soon," Damon said. "I know you want to live in the moment. And I'm okay with that. For now. I will give you time. But you should know that I have got my own agenda. I love you, and that's not going to change. That means I will take you any way I can get you, but what I really want is to marry you. I want to have a life together. I want to have kids with you."

"Damn it, why didn't you say so?" she yelped.

"Let's see. Maybe because you were doing all the talking?"

She smiled. "I'm through talking. For now."

He touched his fingertip to her lips. "You can't stop, not just yet."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm a logical businessman who like to have things spelled out."

"Okay," she said. "I will spell it out. I love you and I am making a commitment to you. To us. Not just for now but for a lifetime."

"That spells marriage to me."

"Yes," she said. "It spells marriage to me, too."

"You said your relationship didn't work out because of this tiny glimmer of a feeling inside that you just can't shake. I have spent the time searching for something as well. I just didn't know what I was looking for until I saw you again at the charity ball."

"What were you looking for, Damon Salvatore?"

He traced her cheekbones. "My own personal guardian angel. I met her twenty years ago. I have been looking for her ever since. Now I have found her again, and I'm not going to let her go. I love you, Elena. That being-in-the-moment thing is all well and good as far as it goes, but when it comes to us I want now and forever."

"Now and forever," Elena said.

Their smiling lips came together in a chaste, soft kiss before she nestled her face in his neck.

"Elena?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"For everything."

"My pleasure."

He smiled against her forehead. "Elena?"

"Hmm?"

"Nothing. I was just saying your name out loud."


	11. Chapter 11

Zach studied the memo Phil Carter had just handed him, which showed a continuing and dramatic increase in the number of shares of Salvatore Industries' stock being bought up on the stock exchange. "What do you make of it?" he asked the attorney, frowning.

"I hate to tell you this," Phil said, "but I did some checking today, and there are whispers on Wall Street that someone wants to take us over."

Zach made a physical effort to look calm and collected, but inwardly he was reeling from the thought of a takeover attempt. "Not now. It wouldn't make any sense. Why would another corporate, decide to take us over at a time like this, when we are in debt up to our ears for all our expansion costs?"

"For one thing, because we couldn't afford to fight off an attempt right now—we don't have the money to put up a long, serious battle."

Zach already knew that, but he still shook his head and said, "It wouldn't make sense to go after us now. All they would get by acquiring us is a lot of debts they would have to pay off." But he and Phil both knew that as a long-range investment, Salvatore Industries could be a very attractive acquisition. "How long before you will know the names of whoever is buying our stock?"

"Another few weeks before we get notification from all the stockbrokers who handle the individual transactions, but we are only notified if the new shareholder actually takes custody of the stock certificates. If the certificates stay in the brokers' custody, we are never notified of the shareholder's identity."

"Can you put together an updated list of new shareholders whose names we do know?"

"Sure thing," he said, and turned, leaving Zach alone in the office with Sarah. He turned to her. "I want you to run a thorough investigation on Damon Salvatore and get me every scrap of information on him that you can find."

"It would help if I knew what sort of information you are looking for," Sarah said.

"For starters, I want to know the names of every single company he owns a major share in, and every single name he does business under. I want to know everything you can find out about his personal financial setup, where he keeps his money, and under what names. I want names. He will have trusts set up and shelters—get me names."

Sarah already knew what he intended to do with those names—he was going to start looking for those names on the list of new stockholders that Phil was getting together.

"Sarah," he said to his daughter, "you work with Phil. I don't want anyone else involved in this hunt for information, because we need to find out what Damon Salvatore is doing before we can take the next step."

"You are certain Damon Salvatore is the one who is buying our shares?"

His lip curled with contempt. "What he wants is revenge against me! He is trying to destroy everything I have built, everything I have but I'm not going to let him do that. I will do anything, anything to stop him. I mean that."

x x x

Sarah closed the door of her bedroom and took out her phone from her bag. She hit the familiar code and Mason Lockwood picked up halfway through the first ring.

"Did he suspect anything?" he demanded.

"No," she said. "He thinks Damon Salvatore is behind the takeover. We did try to buy that land, but in the midst of the negotiations, someone else bought it. Intercorp bought it."

Mason whistled softly. "In retaliation against him – because of what he did to Giuseppe."

"Intercorp bought it for ten million and upped the price to thirty million. We can't afford it."

"And Salvatore Industries can't borrow anymore because you have borrowed up to the teeth right now for all your expansion costs."

There was a short pause before Sarah continued, "If the stock keeps on climbing, it will cost us more to get it."

"Huh." Mason was silent for a beat. "Do you think there is another player in the game?"

"I want Salvatore Industries but we don't have the kind of money right now to buy the stock if it keeps on climbing. God," she finished miserably, "if Salvatore Industries were to become nothing but a division of some big corporate conglomerate, I couldn't bear it."

"We will try our best, darling," Mason reassured her. "I will get Salvatore Industries for you."

"Salvatore Industries was my inheritance. For years I have been telling myself he loved me, but he just didn't know how to show it. The truth is I actually mean very little to him," she said bitterly. "He holds a grudge against me because of my mother."

Sarah had never known her mother Crystal, but she had been told a great deal about her during her youth. Crystal Savaltore had been a model. Her marriage with Zach Salvatore lasted two years—long enough for Crystal to get pregnant, have her baby, have a sleazy affair with a chauffeur, and then go running off to Europe with a phony Italian model. Zach said her mother was a self-centred slut without the slightest conception of marital fidelity or maternal responsibility.

Sarah had been dutifully raised and dutifully educated by Zach. She had been instructed in the duties and responsibilities that were expected of a Salvatore. And she had never been allowed to forget for one moment about the scandalous affair of her mother. Zach had set out to ensure that the bad blood the girl had inherited from her mother was not allowed to surface.

As for Sarah, she knew now that she had wasted most of her youth trying to satisfy a father who viewed even the smallest of failures as evidence that Crystal's genes had not been successfully stamped out.

"He knows how important Salvatore Industries is to me, and I also knew that when he found us together, he would pull out every stop to dissuade me from staying with you." Sarah leaned her damp palm against the desk, her voice anguished. "I figured that sooner or later he will make me choose: you or him or nothing, if I choose you. I decided to keep buying up our stock so that he couldn't do that. I was prepared to buy however much stock it would take to gain control of the board of directors so that he couldn't threaten me with the loss of the CEO position, because I would control the board."

"I'm not letting you marry that banker," Mason said, his voice harsh. "You don't love Brian Walker. Zach wants you to marry him so that Brian can help with the loans. He is selfish. He doesn't love you, not enough to want you to be happy."

"I'm not going to let him tear me apart," Sarah said. "He forced me to choose and I have made my choice."

x x x

Although it was nearly seven-thirty, several of Intercorp's executives were working late, and Damon could hear them moving around outside his office door. He still had another hour's work, and he wanted to call Elena, but from his house, where he could talk to her at leisure. He had left Mystic Falls three days ago and his trip to Richmond was a complete success. He had come back to Intercorp as soon as he reached LA. Elena had taken two weeks off to stay with Jenna and Logan. Damon had missed her badly. He had talked to her less than twenty-four hours ago and he was already looking forward to talking to her again. The fact that he reminded himself of an infatuated teenager was amusing to him, rather than disturbing.

He had just signed his name on the bottom line when Enzo walked into his office. "You are here!" Enzo burst out, closing Damon's door. "Thank God!"

"I'm here," Damon agreed with a wry smile and watched Enzo walk restlessly over to the bar. "But if you have to thank something for that fact, then thank the preparer of this contract, because it has taken me nearly an hour to wade through it."

Enzo stared blankly at him as he splashed bourbon into a glass. "Oh, that is a joke, right?"

"Evidently not a good one," Damon replied dryly, tossing his pen aside. "Now, what is wrong?"

Enzo took two deep swallows of the bourbon "You work too damn hard, Damon. Your trip to Richmond was a complete success. But you came straight back here to work. You deserve to have a break."

"You will be notified if I need some time off." Damon studied him closely. "Now, tell me, what has driven you to drink?"

Enzo finished his drink in two more gulps. Gesturing toward the computer on Damon's desk, he said, "May I?"

Damon nodded and Enzo walked over to his desk. He typed on the keyboard and the screen lit up with the heading:

SALVATORE INDUSTRIES IN FINANCIAL CRISIS?

"Look at this." Enzo pointed to the heading on the screen. "I found out this on the Mystic Falls Daily this morning. An anonymous caller told the media that Salvatore Industries has expanded so quickly that the debt level is very high. The caller even told the media that a few of their recent investments are losing money."

"What are you trying to say?" Damon said, frowning.

"I think someone is forcing Salvatore Industries' stock to drop."

Frustrated, Damon leaned back on his chair. "Are you trying to tell me there is another player in the game? Someone else actually wants to take them over as well?"

Enzo exhaled slowly. "I thought that too before, but why? They are a lousy investment right now unless you have a personal reason like yours."

"Enzo," Damon warned, "keep your face out of my personal business."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"Fine," Damon interrupted. "Get busy checking out the rumours, find out if there really is another player, and if there is one, find out who the hell it is."

"Sure." Enzo hesitated. "The value of their stock has already dropped significantly. Now, the question is, who would want to cause that to happen and why?"

"I don't know," Damon said, striving to keep the frustration out of his voice. "I think someone—other than myself —has been planning to try to take them over. Whoever that is has been quietly buying up their shares. When I got into the game and started buying, too, I drove the price of Salvatore Industries' shares up. Presumably, there's a predator company out there, other than mine, who decided to either scare me off with the uproar over Salvatore Industries' financial crisis, or they are simply trying to drive down the price of the shares so they could grab them cheaper."

"Do you have any idea who that company could be?"

"None whatsoever. Whoever it is wants Salvatore Industries so badly that they aren't thinking straight. The corporation is in debt and Salvatore Industries is a bad buy for the short-term gain."

"Obviously, you don't care about that."

"I'm not in it for profit," Damon replied.

With characteristic bluntness Enzo said, "You are a logical and practical businessman. Is it really worth your money to buy over the company?" When his question was answered with a quelling stare and total silence, Enzo lifted his hands. "As your friend, I want you to think carefully about your decision this time."

"My original motive was revenge against Zach Salvatore," Damon said when his desire for privacy lost out to his greater desire to get this solved. "But I have changed my mind now."

"You have changed your mind?"

"Salvatore Industries is a family business. I won't let anyone take over the company."

Enzo smiled at him. "You still treat him as a family, uh?"

Damon glared at him. "No. He is not my family. My grandfather started the business and I know how important the company was to my father when he was alive."

"Is there anyone else—with a great deal of money— who might also want revenge against Zach Salvatore?"

"How the hell should I know?" Damon said, getting up and beginning to pace. "He is an arrogant son of a bitch. I can't be his only enemy."

"Okay. We will start there—we will look for enemies he might have made who now see a long-term shot at revenge and profit, and who can afford to go after it by taking over Salvatore Industries."

"That sounds absolutely ridiculous."

"Not nearly as much when you consider the fact that no legitimate corporation with motives of pure profit would resort to using mass media to spread rumours as a means of weakening their prey."

"It is still ridiculous," Damon argued. "Sooner or later they are going to have to make their intentions known, and the minute they do, they are going to be suspect in spreading the rumours."

"Being suspect doesn't mean anything unless there is proof," Enzo said flatly.

"I will take care of it," Damon said shortly. "Go home."

When Enzo left, Damon called Intercorp's chief of security, Wes Maxfield, and waited impatiently while Maxfield's wife called him away from the ball game on television. In his mid-fifties, Maxfield was a balding ex-marine and built like a halfback, with a deep gravelly voice that suited his physical image perfectly. He chewed gum and guffawed over his own jokes while he ambled around peering over everyone's shoulder, managing to give the impression of being an ordinary ex-security guard who'd somehow been promoted to a desk job that was way beyond his capabilities.

In truth, he was a former FBI undercover agent with a list of major criminal arrests that were owed to his ability to look innocuous and not too bright while he insinuated himself into the inner circles of his prey. His salary was $225,000 a year, plus stock options and a benefits package.

When he answered Damon's call, the deceptive jocularity was absent from his manner. "Do we have a problem?"

"I know you still have some connections with the FBI."

"What's up?"

"I need you to find an anonymous caller. I will send you the details in the email."

"Okay, I'm sure I can pull some strings at the FBI office."

"Do that," Damon said. "And I want someone to keep an eye on the board of directors of Salvatore Industries."

"Which one?"

"All of them."

"All of them?"

"Yes. I will send you the name list."

After he hung up, Damon left the office and drove back to his condominium. He fixed himself a drink and carried it into the living room. He propped his feet up on the coffee table and dialled Elena's number. She answered on the second ring, her soft, musical voice soothing and cheering him.

"How was your day?" he asked her.

"It was lovely. How was yours?"

Damon refused to think about another company trying to take over Salvatore Industries. "Great. But I miss you."

"I miss you too."

"Can you shorten your holiday in Mystic Falls and come back to LA as soon as possible?"

She chuckled over the phone. "You know how busy my schedule is, Damon. I hardly spend time with aunt Jenna and uncle Logan in recent years."

"I understand." He took a sip of the bourbon in his glass. "The second we see each other again, I am going to give you the most mind-blowing night of your life."

Elena laughed. "Okay. I think I could schedule you in."

"You could schedule me in," he repeated, chuckling. "I like that."

"By the way, I helped aunt Jenna with some baking this afternoon. We made peanut butter cookies."

"Sounds delicious."

"They tasted horrible," she said dryly.

"What went wrong?"

"I had forgotten about the sugar completely."

Damon was speechless for a brief moment and he ended up collapsing against the sofa behind him and shaking with laughter. "You are completely incorrigible," he said, giggling.

"I know I'm pathetic in the kitchen."

He tried to stop his smile. "I'm sorry, sweetie," he finished lamely and dishonestly.

"The hell you are," she retorted, but there was a tinge of reluctant amusement in it. "You are doing your damnedest not to laugh."

Damon chuckled out loud. "Don't change, sweetie. Stay the way you are."

"Not until you promise."

"Promise what?"

"That you will never ask me to cook in the kitchen."

"I cannot make a promise I may not keep," he advised her solemnly.

"Oh, you are such a bully."

Damon laughed harder.

x x x

Damon watched Elena as she sat at the bow of the yacht. His girlfriend wasn't worthy of anything less. She looked beautiful enough and happy enough to take his breath away. He doubted he would ever look at her and not feel the exact same way. She had become his entire life, a life that had made him so happy that it was almost terrifying.

She had come on board the yacht full of excitement and enthusiasm, anxious to be out on the water. Looking at her, he could tell she would become as addicted to being on the water as he was. She was already involved in shooting pictures of just about anything and everything she saw.

Her hair was loose and blowing wildly in the breeze, making her look untamed and sexy as hell.

"Having fun?" He took a seat beside her.

"This is incredible. Thank you for bringing me out," she answered enthusiastically. "My parents used to bring us to Dunham Lake during school holiday but it is the first time I have been on a yacht on the lake."

"This is a nice place," he said.

He had been in the vicinity for only a few hours and somewhat to his surprise, he had discovered he liked Dunham Lake. Ripples on the blue-green surface in front of him shimmered in the waning sun of a warm afternoon.

"I was worried it would be too cold to go onto the water this morning but it turned out to be quite nice."

She smiled at him. "Yeah, it is nice."

Damon had surprised her by turning up at her house on Saturday afternoon and Elena was ecstatic about it. They had spent most of yesterday at her house since he knew she wanted to spend more time with Jenna and Logan. Jenna had welcomed Damon like family, and he was grateful that Jenna seemed to have accepted him for the time being as a new family friend.

Except Logan.

Logan wasn't neutral. Every instinct Damon possessed warned him that Logan was solidly opposed to Elena's relationship with him. Not that he made it obvious. Logan was much too well-bred to disturb his wife's family with any sort of unpleasant coldness at the house.

The Fell family was one of the founder families of Mystic Falls. Logan knew about what had happened to Damon's family. All the members of the founder families had stayed away from Giuseppe and his family after Giuseppe started drinking. His family became an outcast when Zach took over Salvatore Industries.

He understood it. In business, Damon always made it a practice to force adversaries like Logan out into the open, where they couldn't hide their feelings and intentions beneath the nearly impenetrable layers of social custom and ritual. Damon did that because it made them feel awkward, exposed, and uncomfortable, which made any contest of wits more equal.

In this case, Damon saw no reason to force Logan from his position of passive opposition into one of open enmity. Elena was his girlfriend, and for some reason, Damon knew she would not back out on him.

He trusted her.

"I'm glad you like it," he told her simply as he dropped a kiss on her forehead.

"I love it. I have already gotten some beautiful shots."

Damon grinned. "I haven't shown you the comfortable cabins yet."

She smirked at him. "Is that all you ever think about?"

"When I'm around you? Yep. Pretty much." Damon wasn't going to deny he wanted to get her into a bed. Any bed. All he had to do was look at her, think about her, and he was rock-hard.

It was actually harder to keep his hands off her as they grew closer and closer, and this realization was profoundly disturbing.

He still had more business to finish up in Los Angeles after the weekend, but he had made plans for them to have a holiday soon. They might hit Aspen to ski, and he knew Elena would love it. If Elena wanted to come back to Mystic Falls more often, he would come back to Mystic Falls.

"There are quite a few cosy little restaurants here. Have you decided what you would like to eat tonight?" he asked casually.

"I have heard there is a restaurant located a short distance from the lake which serves elegant vegetarian cuisine." She swiped her windblown hair back from her face.

"What is good on their menu?"

"How about eggplant parmesan? Jenna said it serves one of the best eggplant parmesan."

Damon chuckled. "You are an eggplant girl, huh?"

"Is that bad?" She looked at him. "You don't like eggplant."

He shook his head, laughing. "Love it. Just taking notes. Mental notes."

She laughed. "For what?"

"I was thinking five-year anniversary."

"Five-year anniversary? I like it," she said as she threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled his head down for a steamy kiss.

Damon groaned. He needed to show her the cabins soon. As their mouths separated, he said persuasively, "Come below."

"But it is beautiful up here," she protested mildly and threw him a wicked smile.

"Something will be beautiful down below, too."

"Won't the crew think it is odd that we have already disappeared below deck?"

"I pay them," he replied cockily.

"I guess I could use a nap. Somebody kept me up late last night," she admonished him playfully.

He picked her up, and headed toward the stairs. "Sweetheart, I think you will still be tired."

"Then maybe we shouldn't," she pondered teasingly. Her arms wrapped around his neck.

"We should," he insisted as he took her down the stairs. She was so damn beautiful, there was no way he was letting her nap until later. Much later.

"I love you," she murmured into his ear.

Damn! He moved faster, letting Elena open the door as they arrived at the cabin. "I love you, sweetie."

"So what do you think?" he asked. "Do you like it?"

"Beautiful," Elena answered reverently. "So, tell me, Damon. How often do you bring a woman on a yacht? You must have done it before," she teased.

"I have never screwed a woman on a yacht."

"Really?"

"You will be the first woman I have ever made love to on a yacht. The first and the only one."

"Let's make your dreams come true," she told him quietly, seriously.

"Sweetie, they already have."

He kissed her, and she proceeded to bring his every fantasy to life, and she succeeded, making reality far better than fantasy.

He had waited a lifetime for Elena, and every moment with her was better than the last. He could not seem to get enough of her, in bed or out of it, and that was an unprecedented experience for him. She fit the curve of his arm as if she were made for him; in bed, she was a temptress, an angel, and a courtesan. She could drive him to unparalleled heights of passion with a sound, a look, a touch. Out of bed, she was funny, fascinating, stubborn, witty, and intelligent. She could anger him with a word and then disarm him with a smile. She was artlessly sophisticated, devoid of pretension, and filled with so much life and love that she mesmerized him at times, like when she talked about her job at the hospital.

He was seven years older and a thousand times harder than she, and yet something about her softened him and made him like being soft, both of which were new experiences for him. Before he met Elena again, he had been accused by women of being everything from distant and unapproachable to cold and ruthless. Several women had told him he was like a machine, and one of them had carried the analogy to a definition: She said he turned on for sex and then turned off for everything else except his work. During one of their frequent arguments, Andie had told him he could charm a snake and he was just as cold as one.

But Elena was different. For him, she was the best thing that had ever happened to him, his life.

Damon had decided that sometimes, miraculous things really were worth the wait.


	12. Chapter 12

By the time Elena had finally left her long, hot bubble bath, breakfast was ready. Rather than let it get cold, Damon had insisted that she come to the table with her hair still wet, sans makeup, and wrapped in his no-frills terrycloth robe.

Now, as his eyes took a leisurely tour of her, he reached for her hand and pulled her to her feet, drawing her around the table toward him. He spread his knees wide and maneuverer her to stand between them.

Loosely clasping her hands at her sides, he nuzzled the spot where the lapels of her robe overlapped. "You smell good."

"I miss you already. What time is your flight back to LA?"

Damon understood Elena's feelings. His heart felt heavy in his chest because he was leaving soon, but it did not feel weak. It felt very strong. He tipped her chin up. "Two in the afternoon. We still have the whole morning by ourselves."

"Don't forget to call me."

He smiled at that absurdity. "How could I possibly forget to call you, darling?"

She sighed. "I know how busy you are and I hate being a needy girlfriend…"

"If you would shut up long enough, I would like to seduce you. Right now. Right here."

Her eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

He chuckled. "Elena, you talk too damn much."

He didn't stop her mouth with a kiss, but with a signal from his eyes that was just as potent. When she stared down into that smouldering gaze, the protests died on her lips, her insides turned to marshmallow, and her carefully arranged resolves scattered. He continued holding the stare as he untied the knot at her waist and parted the robe.

"Damn, Elena," he said when his hands slipped inside, if I would have known you were naked underneath this, I wouldn't have dawdled over my breakfast."

With his hands at her waist, he drew her forward and planted his open mouth in the very centre of her torso. Her flesh jumped beneath the damp contact with his tongue. Reflexively, she rested her hands on his shoulders for support. She gripped them hard when he kissed first one nipple, then the other, idly flicking them with the tip of his tongue.

Elena moaned and almost lost her balance. He came to his feet and caught her, holding her against his chest. "Unfasten my jeans."

His whispered urgency didn't induce her to hurry. Rather, she reached for his fly slowly. The top snap was easy. The buttons gave her some difficulty, especially since he was kneading her breasts and making love to her mouth with his tongue. He grunted with pleasure whenever her knuckles bumped against the rigid flesh behind the soft denim. Finally, the last button was undone.

"Thanks," he said, sighing his relief. "Will you take my shirt off, too, please?"

He had showered before she claimed the bathroom for her bubble bath. He had emerged dressed in the worn jeans that his lean body seemed made for and a black cotton T-shirt, stretched tight across his broad chest and shoulders.

Now, through the cloth, she could see that his nipples were distended. The sight of his bare chest never failed to elicit a response from deep inside her. She took hold of the bottom of his T-shirt and worked it up over the firm muscles, over the pelt of tawny hair, and pulled it over his head. His hair fell back into place, looking sexily mussed. Several strands dipped low over his brows.

"That's much better," he whispered as he drew her into an embrace that brought their bare torsos together.

The kiss lasted an eternity and gave Elena a mighty appetite for more of him. She moved against his chest, delighting in the tickling sensation of his body hair against her smooth skin. The contact aroused her nipples. He noticed it immediately and caressed them lightly, first with his fingertips, then with his lips, which continued to wander down her body.

He sat down in the chair again and kissed her belly, her navel, each prominent hipbone. Pulling back, he studied the patch of down between her thighs for several moments before letting his fingers play with it.

Elena's breathing and heart rate escalated. Everything grew dark around her, as though her peripheral vision were shrinking in scope until all that was highlighted were Damon and her.

When his lips touched that springy nest, she uttered a low groan and dug her fingers into his hair. The pleasure she derived from his sweet kisses was so exquisite it was almost unbearable.

Damon dropped to his knees. Gently he separated the soft flesh with the pads of his thumbs, then did something wonderful to her with his mouth. Thrill after thrill coursed through her.

She could not go on like this anymore, she thought. If she did, she would suffer unbearable frustration. She needed much more, and she needed it right now.

Obviously, he was able to read her mind because the next thing she knew, he scooped her up against his chest. She wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to him. He carried her out of the kitchen, negotiated the narrow hallway with amazing deftness, and put her down on his king-sized bed.

He paused just long enough to get out of his jeans and briefs and remove a small foil packet from the pocket of his pants. He tore off the top of the packet with his teeth.

And then he was coming down on top of her, one leg anchoring her thigh so that she was open to his touch.

She took several hard breaths, then said in a rush, "I used to picture you cooking for your girlfriend and then you would end up making wild, passionate love to her on the kitchen table."

He cupped her head between his hands. "You are the only woman on this earth for me."

"Damon…"

"Elena…"

"Hmm?"

"Just shut up and let me love you."

When he took her nipple between his teeth she heard a soft, breathless sigh of pleasure. It took her a moment to realize that she was the one who had made the sound.

She reached down and enclosed him with her fingers, exploring the length and breadth of him. The fierceness of his erection excited her. She felt him grow even tighter and bigger at her touch.

His hand moved up the inside of her thigh. One long finger slid slowly, deeply into her, stroking, prodding and stretching.

Another finger followed. She could feel the slick dampness gathering between her legs.

"Damon," she gasped. "You are not playing fair."

She heard his low, wicked laugh, and then felt his warm breath and his tongue on her.

It was all she could do to keep herself from screaming.

It was too much. He was taking control, demanding a kind of surrender that she had never been able to give any man. It was unthinkable.

A moment later the climax rolled through her, as deep and unstoppable as an earthquake.

She was vaguely aware of Damon shifting his weight, sliding heavily between her legs.

He pushed himself deliberately into her, stretching her, filling her completely.

She was stunned to feel herself coming again. Damon rode the new tremors with her, pounding hard and fast into her body. His back was slick with perspiration, every muscle rigid.

The bedsprings groaned loudly, rhythmically in protest. The headboard slammed again and again against the wall. Her emotions were in utter, mystifying chaos. She wanted to laugh and was amazed when she felt tears in her eyes. The only thing that mattered was the man in her arms.

It seemed impossible, but Damon's hoarse shout of exultant, triumphant release gave her as much pure, unadulterated pleasure and satisfaction as her own climax.

Damon gradually drifted back to full awareness. He took his time about it, savouring the feel of Elena's body curled alongside his own. Her head was cradled on his arm. She had one palm resting on his chest and one foot wedged tantalizingly intimately between his legs. He felt her flex her toes a few times as though she liked touching him that way.

A warm, heavy, very bright sensation drifted through him. He could not remember the last time he had felt like this.

Maybe never. He shoved a pillow under his head and smiled into the shadows.

Several minutes later, Elena knew he would have slipped away from her. She folded her arms on his chest and rested her chin on her hands before she whispered. "Don't go."

He traced the outline of her ear with his finger. "I would love to stay but I can't."

"I know." She hesitated. "I shouldn't act like a needy girlfriend."

"Well, listen to me. I don't like the idea of being away from you either. I want to see your beautiful face every day. I want to listen to your voice and see you laugh every day."

She tilted her head a little. "Damon, I want to…" She faltered, unable to continue.

"What?"

She blushed. "I want to touch you."

"Where?"

"Everywhere."

His eyes turned dark with sexual intensity.

"And?" he rasped.

"I want to hold you against me and squeeze the breath out of you. I want you to be inside me again, Damon."

He whistled softly. "I'm surprised you talk damn good sex, Miss Gilbert."

Their first fiery kiss prompted her to put her brave words into action. She slid her hands down his thighs and cupped his buttocks.

Making a low, hungry sound, Damon rolled to his side. His chest was rapidly rising and falling with each breath, but he left the next move to her

Her eyes detailed his body. She touched his nipple with her fingernail. Damon sucked in a sharp breath and held it but still didn't rush her.

She lowered her head to his chest and pressed her mouth over the projected bud, then pushed her tongue against it. He murmured her name and buried his fingers in her hair. She surrendered to every whim and brought to life the fantasies that she had been secretly entertaining for years. Her mouth danced across his chest, kissing randomly, nipping playfully, licking lightly, sucking softly.

"Every girl in Mystic Falls had this fantasy of touching you," she whispered huskily.

"Including you?"

"Yes, including me."

"You were naughty, sweetie."

"Yes, very naughty."

The more she tasted, the greedier she became. Kneeling beside him, she rested her hands on the tops of his thighs and kissed her way over his ribs. She dipped her tongue into the fuzzy mystery of his navel.

He gasped her name repeatedly and knotted her hair around his fingers.

She nuzzled her face in the musky warmth surrounding his sex and glanced the smooth tip with her lips, then returned several times.

"I'm dying, baby," he moaned, dragging her up and sealing their mouths together around a wild, ravenous kiss. She ground her hips against his hardness. He lifted his head and hung it low over hers. "We have got to slow it down. We don't have to go this fast unless the house catches on fire."

"Damon, now."

He grabbed the packet from the drawer before he pinned her beneath him. For all her urgency, his entry was slow and gentle, yet firm. "You are so wet." He sighed, sinking into her. "Lord, you feel good."

"So do you."

They smiled at each other as he pressed even deeper. "Can you feel that?"

"Hmm, yes."

"And that?"

Closing her eyes, she murmured an incoherent yes.

"Good. Good. Now, draw your knees back. That's it. Ah, Elena."

In moments, he forgot to take his own advice against unnecessary haste. Elena didn't remind him, but eagerly met each of his thrusts. She revelled in the thrilling sensations, returned them, relished each new one.

She drew him into her with her body and mind and soul until she couldn't tell that they were separate individuals.

When her extremities began to tingle in a way she now recognized, she clasped Damon tighter. All her concentration centred on their joined bodies, on the friction and the heat and his pulsing, giving motions, until she dissolved in the sweetness and light of their mutual release.

x x x

When Elena awoke a few hours later, Damon was still slumbered beside her. They had made love so many times in the past few hours that Elena had lost count. What amazed and astounded her was that he had continue to sleep soundly when she woke up.

She made to the bathroom quietly and changed into her jeans and shirt. She was no gourmet chef like Damon but she could get some nice burgers from the Grill. And when she walked through the doors of the Grill a short time later, the heavenly fragrance of freshly baked burgers quickly resolved any doubts about her decision. She suddenly realized that she was ravenous.

Elena approached a young blonde woman dressed in uniform standing behind the counter.

"Hello," the blonde said politely. "Do you want a table?"

"No, I want two fish burgers with chips and coleslaws to go." She studied the menu in front of her briefly. "And two chocolate milkshakes as well."

"Sure. It won't be too long." The waiter left her and walked to the kitchen.

"Say, I recognize the voice," boomed a male voice from the other side of the counter.

Elena turned and a smile appeared on her face when she saw the man who appeared at the counter. Matt Donovan was the nicest guy she had ever met. They grew up together in Mystic Falls. And she had come to feel a strong affection for Matt. They had dated for a while when they were in high school but after her parents died in the car accident; Elena had decided to end their relationship. She liked Matt more than any other boy she'd known but it was the affection of a brother. Now Matt was happily married with Jules and had two boys.

Matt beamed at her. "Good to see you back in town, Elena."

"Nice to see you, too," Elena said. She waved a hand to indicate the cafe. The place was just starting to fill up with crowd coming in for brunch. "Business is looking good."

"Not too bad overall. It is a family business."

"How's your dad?" she asked.

Pete Donovan underwent a hip joint replacement a year ago, and Matt had taken over the family business since.

"He still comes here regularly to check on the business." Matt chuckled. "But he is forbidden to go near the kitchen."

She smiled. "How's Jules?"

"The boys are keeping her busy."

They laughed.

"I heard Vicky is working in Richmond now."

Vicky Donovan was Matt's eldest sister and she was a troubled soul when she was a teenager. There was a rumour that she ended up pregnant by someone and had to have an abortion. Eventually, Pete had to send her to a boarding school in Richmond.

Matt's mouth tightened. "Yes. She got a job in one of the departmental stores."

There was a brief silence before Matt spoke again.

"I heard Damon Salvatore is back in Mystic Falls. What's with you and Salvatore?"

Elena smiled sweetly as she remembered the tender, unforgettable things Damon had said to her. She didn't want Matt to know about her relationship with Damon through other people; she wanted to tell him herself.

"Damon and I are together."

"Together?" Matt exploded in a low, incensed voice, "Of all the stupid, irrational—I can't believe you actually choose that—that piece of slime! You have lost your mind! God, I could shake you!"

Elena had intended to try to reason with him, but she was so annoyed by his description of Damon that in angry silence, she stood there while Matt paced back and forth in front of her, raking his hands through the sides of his hair like a man demented. "You have to leave him, now. Today. Get away from him and stay away from him. He's not fit to be in the same room with you. Shovelling manure is all he's fit to do!"

"Why, you snob!" Elena burst out.

"If despising a corporate mobster makes me a snob, then I guess I am one."

"How dare you talk like this!" Elena burst out. "Who do you think you are, anyway?"

Instead of quieting him down, her obstinacy sent him over the edge. Slapping both hands on the counter, he leaned across it, his teeth clenched. "I am your friend. Now, do this for me—get rid of that sonofabitch!"

"You are being completely irrational."

He started pacing again. "What does it take to make you understand?" He stopped and turned to her again. "He is bad for you, Elena. Haven't you heard about his reputation? He is ruthless and cold. Gods know how many women he had slept with!"

Elena was shaken, but she managed to sound reasonably calm. "It's not true."

"He is a cheat and a manipulator. He is an animal!"

"Tell me why you are saying this. Give me one piece of evidence, instead of just gossip."

"I can't!" he bit out.

"Then, please," she said softly, holding out her hand to him, "don't start believing in rumours. Trust my judgment. Be happy for me."

At last, he calmed down, but his sudden sadness was worse than his anger. "Elena, I would have walked in front of a truck for you if you had asked me to do it, but I cannot be happy for you, and I cannot help you if you stay with him."

"I intend to stay with him," she said with a quiet conviction that surprised even her. "I love him."

His face paled as if she had slapped him. "That bastard really has a way with females of all ages, doesn't he? Even you. He can get you to do anything."

Elena assumed Matt had known that all of Elena's teenage girlfriends had crushes on Damon, and she refused to respond to that or his parting shot.

"Your takeaway is ready, miss." The waiter appeared at the counter with two white paper sacks.

Her throat hurt with tears as she took the sacks from the counter.

"Matt?" she said, her voice strained with her. She knew she was going to lose her lifelong friend.

His face set. "Yes."

"Good-bye," she whispered achingly.

x x x

Later when she came bustling through the door, Damon was lying on his back in bed with his hands stacked beneath his head.

"Well, you are finally awake," she said with a smile.

"Where did you go? I was getting worried."

"I woke up, simply bursting with energy. I waited for you to wake up, but when you didn't, I went out to get us some brunch. Fish burgers, chips, coleslaws and chocolate milkshakes just the way you like them."

She set the two white paper sacks on the table near the fireplace. Moving to the bed now, she bent over him and kissed his forehead, where strands of his dark brown hair lay, then his lips. Taking a corner of the sheet between her thumb and fingertip, she raised it and took a peek underneath. "Why, Damon, you are naked! How uncouth."

"Is that a fifty-cent word for horny?"

"You went to university. You know what uncouth means."

"And you know what horny means. Come here." Snarling playfully, he grabbed her wrists and pulled her down over him. She put up only token resistance before melting on top of him, letting her body's softness conform to the hard strength of his.

"Again?" she whispered seductively. "I thought doing it too much could make you go blind."

"You only go blind if you don't do it enough."

"Oh, my. Well, we can't let that happen, can we?" she said, meshing her mouth with his.

Between fervent kisses, she wrestled out of her clothing until she lay stretched atop him, touching skin to skin, hairy to smooth, male to female. She registered momentary surprise when he slid his hands over her derriere onto the backs of her thighs and parted them, lifting her up slightly to straddle his lap.

"I love you, Damon."

"I love you too."

When it was over, she lay upon his chest, panting like the victim of a shipwreck washed ashore.

He folded his arms across the small of her back. His expression was soft and full of affection. "Who needs fantasies with you around, Elena?"

"You have fulfilled all of mine, too."

"All?"

"Well, there is one…"

He grabbed a double handful of her hair and lifted her head off his chest. "Well?"

"Can I wash your back in the shower?"

A slow grin spread across his sexy face. "Miss Gilbert, you can wash whatever your little heart desires."

Elena emerged from the bathroom first, leaving him to shave. Humming to herself, she collected her discarded clothes from around the bed and dressed again. She was removing the burgers from the sacks when Damon came out of the bathroom, hiking his jeans up over his hips.

"I'm afraid the burger got cold," she apologized, handing him a burger.

"It was worth it. I would rather have hot sex than hot burger anytime."

She purred coyly. "I do believe you would."

He kissed her before taking a bite of the burger.

"The chips are still nice," she told him. "Have one."

She poked one into his mouth. He took a bite, then used the burger to gesture toward the white paper sacks on the table. "The burger is delicious. Where did you get it from?"

She hesitated. "They are from the Grill."

Damon's jaw tightened. He stopped his vigorous chewing and held the bite of burger in his mouth for several seconds before swallowing it.

"I'm not hungry." Abruptly, he tossed down the burger on the table. "I need to go to the airport soon."

Elena felt her way forward very carefully. "Damon," she began quietly, "what have you got against the Donovan?"

His face turned as cold as his eyes. "Nothing."

She looked at him with perplexity. Having set aside his milkshake and the remainder of the burger, he was moving around the room restlessly, snatching things up, then setting them down just as quickly. She had never seen him behave this way. He was acting as testy as a caged animal.

"Damon? Why has the name Donovan upset you so much?"

"I'm not upset."

"Don't lie to me," she cried. "I can see that you are. What did Donovan do to you?"

"Drop it, okay? Don't mention the name anymore and everything will be all right."

"Without a full explanation of why I should? Not hardly. I saw Matt at the Grill just now."

He went very still. "What did he say?"

"He told me to stay away from you."

He spun around to face her, his hands on his hips, his features taut and belligerent. "And why didn't you stay away from me? Why did you come back?"

"You know why I came back for you. I love you, Damon. Tell me what had happened between you and the Donovan. Had it had something to do with why you left Mystic Falls suddenly fifth-teen years ago?"

"That's my business."

"Do you two have an axe to grind?"

"You could say that."

"What kind of axe? What was the quarrel over?"

"Drop it, Elena."

"What kind of quarrel did you have with the Donovan?" she repeated insistently.

Supremely agitated over her persistence, he raked his fingers through his hair. "I asked you to drop it."

"Not until I get an answer from you, Damon."

His blue eyes turned brittle and cold. "Stay away from my personal business, Elena."

"Damon, I…"

"You know what I hate most about women? They can't stop asking questions!" He pointed to the door and his voice shook with wrath. "Now, you get the hell out of my house and don't ever come back!"

x x x

Elena drove home without any conscious effort or any awareness of doing so. At five in the evening, she was still sitting in the same chair, her legs tucked beneath her, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and spread over her lap to ward off a chill that had turned her hands to ice and made her shiver convulsively.

Jenna was calling her outside of her room every fifteen minutes. But Elena ignored her because she could not move.

Damon was not calling at all.

She was incapable of shedding a single tear or of throwing up another time. She was completely empty.

Damon was not calling at all.

At five-fifteen, Jenna called her name again, and this time she wasn't worried, she was frantic and angry.

"Elena, if you don't open the door right now, I'm going to break open this door."

Elena actually made an effort to answer it, but Jenna and Logan had already used the spare key to get into Elena's room.

"Elena?" Jenna said soothingly, approaching her with great caution, Elena noticed—as if they both thought she had gone insane. Logan crouched down in front of her, handsome and caring.

"Elena," he said gently. "What had happened?"

Jenna crouched beside him, clutching his shoulder tightly, a brace against whatever hideous thing they were about to hear that had reduced Elena to such a mindless state.

Elena looked at both of them. "Oh," she said thoughtfully, "I saw Matt at the Grill and he asked me to stay away from Damon."

"What?!" Jenna exploded, shooting to her feet.

Elena's gaze automatically followed her motion, and she tipped her head back. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Isn't that amazing?"

"Amazing?" Jenna said, shooting a hesitant look at Logan as he slowly stood up beside her. "Is that what you think it is?"

"It was obvious Matt and his family loathed Damon. But why? Damon worked so hard at the Grill and he had learnt his cooking from Matt's father. I know Damon had enjoyed working at the Grill."

"I know," Jenna said, but her brows remained pulled together in a watchful frown.

"I don't understand. What had actually happened between Damon and the Donovan? Why did Matt hate him so much?"

"Maybe he had done something to the Donovan," Logan said.

Elena's eyes widened. "What did you say? Did you know something I should know, uncle Logan?"

Logan shook his head. "I don't know what the feud was about but I do know Pete hates his guts."

"Why don't you ask Damon about it, honey?" Jenna said cautiously. "Maybe he will tell you about it."

"No, he won't," Elena said emphatically. "He asked me to stay away from his personal business."

"What?!"

"He asked me to mind my own business." Elena laughed. "Damon said he hates women asking questions." She laughed harder. Suddenly she turned her face into the chair and the laughter turned to wrenching sobs. "He asked me to get out of his house and never come back! He didn't want to see me anymore!"


	13. Chapter 13

For the third time in an hour, Damon's intercom buzzed on his desk, interrupting a loud and heated debate among his executives. Angry at the continued interruptions, he glanced apologetically at the men and reached for the intercom button as he explained, "Bree's sister is ill, and she is in Georgia. Go on with your conversation," he added as he pressed the button and snapped at the secretary who was filling in for Bree, "I told you to hold my calls!"

"Yes, sir, I…I know…" Jessica's voice came over the speaker phone—"but Mr Phil Carter from Salvatore Industries said it is extremely important, and he insisted I interrupt you."

"Take a message," Damon snapped. He started to release the button, and then he stopped. "Who did you say was calling?"

"Phil Carter from Salvatore Industries," the secretary emphasized meaningfully, her tone telling him that she, too, had read of the news of Salvatore Industries' financial crisis. So, obviously, had the men seated in a semicircle around his desk, for the announcement of Phil Carter's name caused a pulse beat of stunned silence followed instantly by an explosion of nervous, heightened conversation meant to cover the previous silence.

"I'm in the middle of a meeting," Damon said curtly. "Tell him to call me back in fifteen minutes." He put the phone down, knowing that courtesy dictated that he should have volunteered to call Phil back. He didn't really give a damn; they had nothing left to say to each other. Forcing himself to concentrate on business, he looked at Enzo, and continued the conversation that Phil's call had interrupted. "There won't be any zoning problem in Southville. We have a contact on the zoning commission who has assured us that the county and the city of Southville are both eager to have us build the factory there. We'll have approval from them on Wednesday, when they meet to vote…"

Ten minutes later he ushered the men out of his office, closed the door, and sat down behind his desk again. When Phil Carter hadn't called after thirty minutes, he leaned back in his leather chair and glowered at the silent telephone, his hostility growing with every passing moment. How like Phil Carter, he thought, to call him for the first time in more than a decade, then insist that his secretary interrupt him in the middle of a meeting, and when he didn't take the call, to then make him sit and wait. Phil Carter had worked at the Salvatore Industries for more than twenty years and he was an important figure in the company. Zach Salvatore trusted him and treated him as an important asset. Phil Carter was loyal as well and there wasn't enough money in the world to buy off a man like him.

Drumming his fingernails on his desk, Zach leaned back in his chair, angrily watching the clock, deliberately waiting forty-five minutes before asking Phil calling Damon again. How like that arrogant, swaggering braggart to make Phil call him back! Zach thought wrathfully. Obviously he hadn't acquired any manners along with his wealth, or he'd know that since Phil had courteously taken the first step in contacting him, it was his duty to take the next step. Of course, good manners would never mean anything to Damon Salvatore. Beneath his newly acquired veneer of urbanity, he was still crude and ambitious, just like Giuseppe before Lillian passed away.

"I think we should call him now," Phil said as he glanced at his wristwatch. It was 10:45 a.m.

Zach nodded and Phil reached for the telephone.

Damon jumped at the buzz of his intercom. "Mr Phil Carter is on the line," Jessica said.

He picked up the phone. "Mr Carter?" he said, his voice cupped, impatient, "this is an unexpected surprise."

"I don't think business is considered an unexpected surprise," Phil replied calmly.

"What do you want?" Damon asked, frowning. "What does Zach want?"

"Your grandfather was the founder of Salvatore Industries and he had worked very hard to build this company…"

"I know about the history of Salvatore Industries," Damon interrupted. "Stop beating around the bush, Phil." His jaw tightened and his tone hardened. "What does Zach want?"

"We want to talk to you…in person."

"About the land in Mystic Falls? I told Zach if he wants the land so badly, he has to buy it. But he had declined my offer," he reminded Phil icily. "Why this sudden change of heart?"

"It is not only about that land in Mystic Falls. It is about Salvatore Industries. The future of Salvatore Industries."

Phil's words about the future of Salvatore Industries jolted him, and he hesitated a full five seconds, then he said abruptly, "I'm not part of Salvatore Industries. Has Zach forgotten that he had taken everything from my father?"

There was a short paused at the other end.

"There is a charity ball in LA organised by Duncan Walker next weekend. Will you be there?" Phil asked.

Duncan Walker is one of the top bankers in the country. Damon had met him on a few occasions. He knew Sarah was in a relationship with Duncan's son Brian.

Damon glanced down at his desk calendar which was covered with meetings and appointments scheduled for the whole of January. "I think I can spare some time to attend the ball next weekend."

"Perfect," Phil answered instantly. "We shall talk next weekend."

x x x

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Logan asked as Elena opened the door on her side.

"Matt hates Damon but he won't tell me the reason. Pete Donovan is probably the only one outside of Matt who knows the real answer to that."

"Pete was drunk the one time he brought it up with me, but I got the feeling that somehow Vicky was involved in it."

"Vicky?"

"He wasn't making sense, so I'm not sure."

"Well, I intend to find out from Pete Donovan."

"Okay, I will go with you." Logan walked to the gate and leaned on a button.

Elena bit her lip, considering whether Logan would be an asset or a liability. "I think I might get further with Pete if I am alone."

"But Elena…"

"Why don't you wait inside the car?"

Pete was in the living room, sitting in a leather wing chair reading the newspaper when Kelly took Elena in to see him. "Elena would like to talk to you, Pete."

Pete looked round from his chair and nodded; then he put the newspaper down onto the coffee table. "Hello," he said, beckoning to the sofa across from him. "Sit down."

Elena drew a careful breath, knowing this would be her only chance to find out what she needed to know and to try to neutralize it. "I wonder if I could talk to you privately, Pete."

"Of course," Kelly said and backed out of the living room.

"Certainly, my dear," Pete said. He looked at her in expectant silence.

"You know Matt and I grow up together," she began quietly. "I like him a lot. He is a good friend and I have always thought of him as a brother."

"Matt likes you a lot too and he treats you as his sister."

"That's why I need to know why Matt hates Damon so much."

His jaw tightened. "In that case, I will give you the best advice I have ever given you. Stay out of this!"

"I won't do that."

He surged to his feet, towering over her until Elena stood up, too. "Stay out of this, Elena. Stay away from Damon Salvatore. He isn't what you think he is. He is an animal!"

"Why?" Elena cried. "What has Damon done to you to make you hate him?" With an effort she forced herself to sound willing instead of combative. "Help me understand—then I can decide whether to do as you say."

The control Pete had been exerting over his temper suddenly snapped. "You want to know what he did to me?" he jeered in an awful voice. "I will tell you what he did—He destroyed my family! That filthy son of a bitch was the real stud in my cafe. God knows how many others of Vicky's little friends he cheated…"

"Cheated?" Elena said weakly.

He grabbed her shoulders. "You wanted to know and now you are going to know all of it. Do you remember my beautiful little daughter? Do you?" he demanded with a shake.

Elena jerked free and stepped back, but she couldn't make herself leave without hearing it all. "Of—of course I remember," she said shakily.

"That animal got my little girl pregnant. I almost walked in on them at the Grill one night, and I ran him off. He seduced my little daughter to get her into his bed!"

Elena shook her head. "Oh, no, Pete, you are wrong..."

"I'm not wrong!" he shouted. "I'm the one who has been wronged. When Vicky realized she was pregnant—almost three months pregnant—she told her mother and Kelly took her to have an abortion."

Elena swallowed but said nothing.

"I found out because Vicky almost died from the bleeding!"

Her face paled. "Oh, Pete…"

"I nearly lost my daughter because of that son of a bitch!" Pete said gruffly. "If you have any common sense, you should stay away from him. He is a monster!"

Back in the car, Logan glanced at Elena.

"What did Pete say to you, honey?" he asked.

Elena looked at him. "He said Damon cheated Vicky and got her pregnant. And Vicky nearly died from the abortion because of bleeding."

"What?"

Elena shook her head. "I don't believe him."

"Honey," Logan sighed. "I know you love Damon, but…"

It happened then, the thing that Elena had subconsciously feared for hours—she started to laugh and she couldn't stop. "Damon wouldn't have laid a hand on Vicky! He lived in daily fear of the girls coming on to him. I remember how hard the girls had to work to get him to notice them."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Damon had a girlfriend when he was in Whitmore. He didn't seduce other girls to get them into his bed. He didn't have time because he worked so damn hard to support Stefan and himself."

"Elena, Damon had a girlfriend doesn't mean that he didn't make a move on Vicky."

"It is so funny…so hideously funny."

"Is it? Funny?" Logan said, but he was beginning to believe Elena was thinking far more clearly than he had first imagined when he saw her got inside the car.

"Yes, it is!" Elena said, nodding her head. "It is hilarious. I know, because I saw Vicky and him making out at the back of her car."

"Him? Who? Damon?"

"Marko White."

"Marko White? The wild and crazy kid who lived in the trailer just out of town?"

"Yes! Marko White!" she laughed. "I saw the two of them making out at the back of her car that night of the Back to School Party. Caroline and I had seen the two of them kissing outside the school library as well."

"You are saying it was Marko who got Vicky pregnant?"

"Damon hadn't laid a hand on Vicky! He hadn't and he wouldn't."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going back to Los Angeles."

Elena was definitely going back to Los Angeles. She had to see Damon. With Jenna and her husband helplessly standing by, she stuffed the clothes she had at the house into the suitcase she owned; then she threw all her toiletries in on top of them. "That's that," she said, closing the luggage. After that she phoned the airline and rescheduled her flight.

She turned to Jenna and said, "I'm sorry I have to leave early."

"What if Damon doesn't want to see you anymore?" Jenna asked.

"He will see me," Elena said as she dragged the heavy case off her bed, "I will convince him to see me."

x x x

The man who answered the intercom and looked at her through a tiny camera located at the gate of the Century was surprisingly easy to convince that Mr Damon Salvatore's fiancée should be allowed to surprise her fiancé by being admitted without advance notice. In fact, the middle-aged man was positively beaming with delight as he showed her through the elevator that brought her to Damon's penthouse directly.

Looking in the mirror, Damon tied his black tuxedo tie with the same cold efficiency with which he had done everything else the past five days. Not long ago he had dreamed of Elena sleeping next to him, but no more. Not now. He wouldn't allow himself to think about her, or to remember her, or to feel anything.

Last week, Elena loved him and believed in him.

Once she found out from Matt Donovan, she was going to despise him.

He had tried to think of a way to keep her. But he couldn't. Maybe she wasn't for him to keep. When he realised this could be case, the unfamiliar constriction in his throat grew until it was painful. Sending her away that day was the most difficult task he had ever done in his life.

Now he had torn her out of his mind and heart, permanently this time, and he wanted to keep her out.

When Elena arrived at the penthouse, she opened the door and silently slipped inside, watching him, and trying to think where to begin when all she wanted to do was fling herself into his arms. She had rehearsed a dozen opening speeches on the flight there, all of them designed to let her stay and face his trouble together with him. She had thought of pleading, of reasoning, of demanding. She had considered trying tears to weaken his resistance. But when the moment was finally upon her, she couldn't seem to begin as she watched him put on his tuxedo jacket.

She took a step forward and saw him stiffen when he saw her reflection on the mirror. "Damon?"

He didn't even turn his head or look at her. "What are you doing here?"

That hurt, but at least he was waiting for her to speak, and her instincts told her he wasn't completely indifferent to her. She smiled a little, dying to surrender, not certain how to do it "I came here to see you." Her voice shook with nerves and she knew he heard it, but he didn't say a word, encouraging or otherwise.

Summoning her courage, Elena drew a deep breath and forged ahead. "I came here to tell you that I'm still mad at you."

He turned to face her. "You what?!"

"I'm still mad at you, Damon."

He didn't say a word, and her heart was sinking when she suddenly saw it—the amused gleam in his beautiful eyes, the faint quirk of a smile dawning at his lips. "You are the damnedest man I have ever met," she continued as hope burst in her like sunshine, "half the time I don't know whether to slap you or kiss you."

Chuckling, he held out his hand for hers.

Tears of joy and relief sprang to her eyes as she laid her hand in his palm, feeling his fingers engulf hers in their warm strength, closing tightly on her hand, and then abruptly yanking her forward into arms that wrapped around her like steel bands, while he buried his lips in hers. When he finally ended the kiss, he kept her crushed against his length, his jaw resting against her head, as if he were afraid to let her go for fear she would vanish. Content to stay there, she rubbed her cheek against his hard chest. "I love you."

His hand slid up her back in a caress, and he brushed a kiss against her temple. "I know you do. The proof is in my arms."

"I know why Matt hates you. Pete Donovan told me."

He froze. "He told you what?"

"I went to see him last night. He told me you got Vicky pregnant and she had to have an abortion. She nearly died from the abortion."

"He told you all that," Damon said, leaning back and studying her with puzzlement and disbelief, "and you came here, to me?"

She smiled at him in the moonlight and nodded; then she cuddled closer in his arms again. "I know it isn't true."

"Because you believe in me?" he speculated, confused.

"Yes. And because back then I saw Vicky and Marko White together. You hadn't laid a hand on her. You wouldn't."

With a smile in his voice, he whispered, "I love you, Elena."

She opened his shirt button and pressed a playful kiss on his chest. "But I'm still mad at you. You shouldn't have pushed me away."

"The madder you get, the better you look. Put that energy to good use and kiss me like you mean it."

She did. For one thing, she couldn't resist meeting the challenge in his eyes. For the other, she was dying to gobble him up. She threw her arms round his neck and arched her body into his.

Keeping their mouths cemented, he climbed into his bed, dragging Elena with him.

"Damn, Elena, I got to breathe sometime," he said, finally tearing his lips free.

"You said for me to kiss you like I meant it. I only did as I was told."

"You are unbelievable, sweetie." Grinning, he whisked his thumb over her moist lips. "Unbelievable and amazing."

"If you push me away again, I promise I will kill you with my bare hands."

Chuckling, he parted her faded Levi's jacket and lowered his head to nuzzle her breasts. She tugged his shirttail from his waistband far enough to get her hands underneath it and onto his bare skin.

His lips caressed her breasts through the weave of her sweater. Breathlessly she said, "I could kill you for doing this to me."

"What, this?" He rubbed his open mouth over her nipples.

"No," she sighed raggedly, "for making me want you when I can't have you."

He continued kissing her through her sweater while he unfastened her jeans. He pulled down the zipper and slid his hand inside. "You will always have me."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"I know you have had lots of women. You have left them by the dozens. But Elena Gilbert is going to be the one you find hard to leave and even harder to forget."

Damon smiled at her. "You are right about that. You are going to be hell to leave and impossible to forget."

He removed her sweater, and it dropped to the floor. Her bra followed. He slung off his shirt, and then he had his belt and trousers undone. A few seconds later, he was free of everything.

Then his eyes turned dark. Because she had touched him. At first just a few tentative brushes with her fingers, to indulge her curiosity about the various textures, but, encouraged by his unsteady breathing and that smokiness in his eyes, she took him in her hand. Guided by his gruff whispers, and instinct, she pumped him until he grew incredibly tight. Hot breaths struck her hair as he bent his head over hers and groaned her name.

A drop of moisture leaked from the tip. She took it on her thumb, sucked it off, and pressed her thumb against the centre of her lower lip, which he had told her was sexy. Raspily, he said, "You are driving me crazy," then covered her mouth in a fierce kiss that left her mindless. He bent over her and kissed her belly as he peeled off her panties.

She didn't know until later what had happened to them. They disappeared while she was held in thrall of the trail of kisses that brought his mouth to where she pulsed with need, in thrall of his cheeks against her thighs, in thrall of what he was doing with his lips, his tongue, with his gliding fingers, with his rumbled words of adoration and coarse carnality that she had never found to be a turn-on until now.

In thrall of Damon Salvatore loving her.

"Are you back?" he whispered.

Her eyes opened partially. "Hmm."

"You sure?" It took all his willpower only to nudge her, not penetrate. But, damn, it was tough to hold back.

Her eyes came fully open. "Yes. I'm back."

He gave her a wicked grin. "Have fun?"

She blushed.

"Have fun?" He nudged her again, only this time pushing into her until the head of his cock was snug inside.

"Yes," she gasped.

"I'm glad." He rubbed his lips across her cheekbone.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"The pleasure was mine."

"Really?"

All teasing aside, he angled his head back and looked into her beautiful brown eyes. "Really."

They stared at each other for a meaningful moment.

He sank into her a little deeper and her throat arched up. "That feels amazing."

"To me, too."

"But you haven't…"

"Not yet."

"Why?"

"Because you were drifting in euphoria. And I want you to remember this. With perfect clarity."

She touched his cheek. "I could never forget this."

"Me either."

"Only because you are so skilful."

"Nope. Because you are so damn beautiful." He pressed deeper still and grimaced with pleasure. "And because you feel so good. Now that I'm here, and I know just how sweet you are, I want to make it last. But damned if I can."

A second later, he was sheathed completely, his fingers were entangled in her hair, and his breathing was loud and ragged against her neck. Sliding his hands under her ass, he tilted her up and pushed into her as deep as he could possibly go.

"Jesus, Elena." He hoped that with that guttural moan he had made her understand just how tight and hot and incredible she felt.

Because when he began to move, he was quickly lost.

"Hey, you?"

Elena snuggled against him and sighed with contentment. "Hey you."

"Are you asleep?"

"No. Just thinking."

He had gathered a strand of her hair and was sweeping the ends of it across her nipple. "The way your hair brushes against them? Sexiest thing I ever saw. Drives me crazy. But I think I told you that already."

"That's driving me crazy," she said as he continued the idle whisking.

"Good crazy?"

"Wonderful crazy."

He tilted her head back and they kissed. When it finally ended, he asked, "What were you thinking about?"

"I was thinking you had probably missed out an important appointment because of me and I felt bad about it."

He didn't say anything for several beats. Then, "Do I have an appointment?"

She laughed and pressed her face against his chest. Her hand trailed down to his navel. "You are a terrible person."

"I'm a terrible person," he admitted. "I'm bad."

"But I still love you." She leaned up and kissed his face.

"And I love you too, Elena." He pulled her over on top of him so that they were settled belly to belly. "I'm sorry that I acted like a jerk the other day but I was actually glad to see you here."

"You never did tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"About what happened between Pete Donovan and you."

"I like Pete." He sighed. "He gave me a job when I needed one. He taught me how to cook. I owe him."

"Why don't you let anyone see the good in you?"

"When people see good, they expect good. And I don't want to live up to anyone's expectations."

She smiled at him. "I know you have a good heart."

"Really?" He winked mischievously. "You know me so well, uh?" He touched the tip of her breast and smiled when it hardened against his fingertip. "Do you know what am I thinking now?" He smoothed his hands down over her bottom and secured her more firmly against him.

Catching his meaning, she smiled. "Something dangerous."

They shared a laugh, and then he hugged her to him tightly. "I'm so glad you are here."

"I was nervous."

"You thought I would turn you down and kick you out?"

"I thought you might."

"Not a chance."

He slid his hands over her bottom all the way down to her thighs. He spread them apart until she was straddling him, and then lifted her so he could push inside.

He was full and hard, but mostly he was Damon, and she pressed down on him with a satisfied sigh. Leaning forward, she kissed his mouth, long and slow, then squirmed down and touched the tip of her tongue to his nipple. He made a low, sexy sound and asked her to repeat that.

His arousal aroused her, but when she began to rock against him, he placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her up to a sitting position. "I want to watch."

"What?"

He splayed his hand over her lower belly. "Lean back. Farther. Put your hands on my thighs."

She hesitated, then did as he instructed, making herself vulnerable to his hot gaze and to his thumb, which he slid down between their bodies. He watched the lips of her sex close around it, and then looked into her eyes as he began to stroke her with a circular motion that caused her body to quicken and involuntarily thrust against his thumb. Tilting her face toward the ceiling, she closed her eyes and lost herself to the sensations.

Without inhibition, she gave over to her impulses, moved as her body was dictating, and allowed herself to be governed strictly by her senses. She heard Damon's hiss of pleasure, felt the fervent, wet tug of his mouth on her nipple, the flicking of his tongue in concert with his thumb's caresses.

She arched her back and cried out his name.

They slept for several hours and woke to make love again as they showered together. He was assembling the coffee-maker when she emerged from the bathroom, wearing only the dress shirt he had discarded the night before, towel-drying her hair.

When he turned and saw her, an odd expression came over his face. "What?" she asked.

He shook his head slightly, and then gave her a wolfish grin. "I was just thinking how good it looks on you."

"Your shirt?"

"Debauchery."

She blushed to the roots of her hair.

"Damn, that gets to me every time."

"What?"

"Your blush."

"I don't blush."

"Bet you will."

"Will?"

He sat down in one of the chairs at the table, caught her hand, and pulled her into his lap. It was a while before they got around to having their coffee.

"I felt bad that you missed your appointment last night." She took a sip of her coffee. "I'm sorry."

He shrugged casually. "You don't have to feel sorry. It was a party. Nothing important."

"Are you sure?"

"I didn't want to go at all but my PR thought that it would be good for the boss to turn up." He took a sip of the coffee from his mug. "I bet my staff would be glad I didn't turn up."

Her eyes' widened. "Why do you say that?"

"They don't like me."

"But why?"

"Because I'm a cruel, cold and nasty boss."

Elena smoothed her fingers over his hard jaw. "You are not cruel or cold. Nasty…maybe a little."

He turned her face up for a kiss and said with a grin. "I love you, sweetie."

"I love you too."


	14. Chapter 14

Damon scowled at the tie on the bed, one that Elena had bought him on her shopping expedition. He loved the cotton T-shirt she had gotten him, but he wasn't wearing a bright tie to work. He picked up the Bordeaux red silk tie with white and navy flowers as if it were a poisonous snake. "I'm not wearing this tie."

Elena was in the bathroom, drying her hair with the blower, and he bellowed loud enough for her to hear him.

She was standing near the bed a few seconds later. Damon immediately got as hard as a rock as she looked him up and down. Her eyes lingered on his bare chest. "Hmm…that's too bad. Personally, I don't find anything sexier than a man wearing a bright tie. This tie would suit your navy suit. You would look very hot. I'm not sure I could keep my hands off you." She sighed, sounded beleaguered, and walked out of the bedroom.

Damn! He was so going to wear the damn tie after that comment.

Grabbing his white shirt from the wardrobe, he put it on before wearing the tie. If he was going to look hotter to Elena, he'd probably do just about anything. Yeah, he knew she was manipulating him, but he didn't give a shit. Making Elena happy and keeping her turned on had become his primary mission in life.

Damon had never felt so happy in his life in the last few days. Elena had stayed with him every night. He had asked Bree to cancel all his appointments after work as he only wanted to spend time with Elena. They had rarely gotten out of his penthouse at night, and had left the apartment only last night so he could take her out to dinner at The Palm. The food had been excellent, but all Damon had been able to think about was the low-cut bodice of her sexy floral printed dress, the amount of exposed skin that he wanted to explore with his hands and mouth. He had even skipped a chocolate dessert when Elena refused anything for her own dessert course, not able to get her back to the penthouse and into bed fast enough for his liking.

He scowled at the credit card Elena had left on the dresser of the bedroom, unused. She'd paid for everything herself on her shopping trip, a fact that both touched him and irritated him at the same time. He wanted to take care of her, give her whatever she wanted. Most women would have taken the card and charged until it was maxed out, which might have taken some time. His limits weren't exactly average. But not Elena. Hell, no! She hadn't used it at all, but left it quietly on the dresser. Sure, she had money, but he had a hell of a lot more. He jerked his wallet out of the back pocket of his trousers and jammed the card in just a little too hard. Receipts and business cards fluttered to the carpet. Snatching them up, he put them back into his wallet and headed out to the kitchen.

As he entered the kitchen, he saw her bustling around near the stove, and he was as stunned as he always was every time he saw her in the same penthouse as him. Her long silky hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and it swayed as she moved gracefully, efficiently around the room.

Damon was mesmerized by her, fascinated by every move she made. His eyes watched her shapely ass as she bent over to pick something up off the floor.

 _Oh, hell no. She's never going anywhere. Not without me,_ he thought.

His heart thundered against his chest wall, and his palms got sweaty just from thinking about her leaving him.

Not happening.

"Good morning," Elena said cheerfully as she turned around and spotted him. "You are wearing the tie. You definitely look like the sexiest man alive," she purred as she sidled up next to him and kissed him tenderly on the lips.

Damon grinned. He couldn't help himself. Elena was managing him, and he was completely on to her machinations. But she was so darn adorable that he wasn't about to call her on it. Nope. He wanted to hear her call him sexy, and he would do whatever it took for him to hear it. Yep…he was just that pathetic when it came to her.

He would have snatched her up if she didn't have a coffee pot in her hand. Because she did, he settled for what he could get. "Coffee smells nice. Why don't you sit down and have your breakfast?"

"You make dinner and you cook the breakfast. I'm spoiled," she said as she sat across from him. "Bacon, eggs, and double chocolate pancakes with chocolate syrup." She waved her pancake turner and gestured for him to sit as she loaded a plate for him. "You are ruining me!"

"It's a recipe I got off the Internet. It's decadent, but knowing you and chocolate, I think you will like it," he teased as he dove into his bacon and eggs, famished.

"The pancakes smell nice." Elena could smell the tantalizing scent of chocolate and peanut butter, and her mouth watered.

"Let me know if you like them," he said with a knowing smile. "It's the first time I've tried these."

Elena didn't hesitate to pick up a fork and dig into the chocolate fantasy, and groaned as she took his first bite. "Amazing," she said between bites, nearly inhaling the stack of pancakes. "You are an amazing cook."

"I like to cook, but it is more fun when I have someone to share it with."

Elena's heart soared at his words and at the thought that Damon wanted to be with her, liked being with her outside the bedroom. He wanted her to share every space in his life. "Thank you for making breakfast."

"You are welcome, sweetie."

She took another bite of the pancake. "Mmm…almost better than sex," she purred as she licked her fork.

Damon glared at her. "Sweetheart, these are incredible, but nothing is better than sex with you." Okay, she had said "almost" but he still wasn't mollified. He paused, his fork halfway to his mouth, to watch her pink tongue lick the chocolate from the utensil.

Jesus! When did watching her lick chocolate become an erotic experience?

She swiped her tongue over the fork one more time, and closed her eyes, a blissful look on her face. "I'm done," she declared and dropped the fork on her empty plate. "I really like the syrup."

Damon shoved the last bite of pancakes into his mouth as he watched her. Damned if she didn't swipe her index finger across the plate, place it in her mouth, and sucked hungrily at the chocolate-covered digit slowly.

His dick pulsated, strained against the denim that kept it confined. "Sweetheart, if you do that one more time, I'm going to give you something else to put in your mouth covered in chocolate, something a hell of a lot bigger than your finger," he growled. His imagination ran wild.

Her eyes flew open and she gave him an innocent look. "Chocolate-covered Damon?" Her eyes grew sultry and met his with a bold look. "Yummy."

She had gotten him hot and bothered on purpose, and Damon loved it. The fact that she was becoming a damn seductress, so blatantly sexual with him, made him crazed. She trusted him.

Damon's heart pounded as she rose from her chair; her hips swayed as she moved to the cupboard, lifted a bowl from the countertop and slid it onto the table as she stood right in front of him. "Leftovers," she told him in a low, I dare you voice that had Damon on his feet in less than a second.

He yanked at her t-shirt and pulled it over her head. The garment had barely hit the ground before he divested her of the rest of her clothes, frantic to have her naked.

"Damon, I don't think…"

"Don't think," he demanded as he surveyed her standing in front of him, naked. "And don't play with a fire unless you plan on putting out the flames, woman."

"Fine. Get naked." She crossed her arms across her chest. "I was actually planning on using that chocolate syrup on you."

She didn't have to ask him twice. Damon undressed as she stood there and watched him, almost as if she was amazed that he was actually stripping. When he was nude, she caught her breath as she realised he was hard, he grinned at her.

He dipped his hand into the bowl and drizzled the warm, liquid chocolate onto her shoulders, smeared some over her neck before he swiped a generous amount over each of her hardened nipples. He let it drop onto her belly and then rubbed it onto her inner thighs. "Chocolate-covered Elena." He made a low, reverberating sound as he covered her lips with his chocolate saturated fingers. "I think this just became my favourite fantasy."

She looked up at him as he smeared chocolate on her lips slowly. Their eyes locked as she opened her mouth and sucked on one of his fingers. Her eyes darkened with desire.

Damon groaned as her tongue swirled over his fingers and licked away the excess chocolate from one finger at a time. She dipped her hand into the bowl and mimicked his actions: swiped chocolate over his lips, down his torso and finally wrapped her chocolate drenched fingers around his male hardness.

He almost came the moment she wrapped her warm fingers around him. Between watching her suck on his fingers and feeling her warm touch on his cock, he knew he was on the edge. "Elena," he said warningly. He pulled his fingers from the warm haven of her mouth and lowered his head to suck the chocolate from the delicate flesh of her neck. Damon nipped and sucked hard as she moaned and then moved her head to the side to give him better access. He was losing control, and he knew he was definitely going to leave his mark on her, but her breathy pants of pleasure spurred him on. As he moved down her body, he licked chocolate from every inch of her skin and bit gently on each nipple as he tasted the chocolate from each breast. The combination of chocolate and Elena made him lose his mind.

Elena reached out and braced her hands on his shoulders as he dropped to his knees and swirled his tongue over her belly. She sunk to her knees with a strangled moan before he could completely finish cleaning the warm skin of her abdomen. Tackling him to the floor, she straddled his legs, her mouth voracious as she lapped at his chest and licked her way down his body.

Damon savoured the feel of her lips all over him, closed his eyes and shuddered as her tongue moved over his stomach. If she touched his cock, he was a goner. Sitting up, he lifted her bodily, pulled her to him, covered her mouth with his, and devoured her. His sticky hands released her ponytail and fisted her hair as he branded her as his, losing control as he swept his tongue into her mouth and held her head still to take him. He growled as she speared her hands into his hair, leaned her body into his and surrendered to his brutal possession.

They both came out of the kiss wild-eyed and feral. Erotic need vibrated through the air as he went to his knees, turned her around on his body, and fell back against the tile floor. He pulled her hips toward him until she straddled his face. Her palms came down next to his hips for balance; her mouth hovered over his cock. Damon could hear her whimper as he roughly sucked the chocolate from her inner thighs.

"Oh, God. Damon" she mewled. Her heavy, hot breath wafted over his cock.

He completely lost it as her tongue circled the head.

Jesus!

Knowing he'd come hard and fast, he dove between her thighs and groaned as her liquid heat consumed him. With a tight grasp of her ass, he pulled her down. She was slick, hot, and so damn delicious that he wasn't gentle. His teeth bit gently on her clit; his tongue worked the tiny bundle of nerves like a madman.

He could feel her warm mouth gently suckle his balls, and then, to his surprise, she sunk her teeth into his upper thigh hard enough to leave a mark.

 _Jesus! She's marking me just like I did to her neck._

The act was so damn carnal and possessive that Damon groaned into her hot flesh. The vibrations dragged a long moan from Elena as she took his male hardness completely into her mouth, owning it as she moved up and down on the shaft. Her slick hand wrapped around the root of it, unable to take his entire length.

Damon felt Elena's body tremble, and he gave her exactly what she wanted. His tongue speared into her sheath and he could feel her muscles spasm. She moaned desperately around his male hardness as she climaxed, her strokes against his male hardness frenzied.

Damon grasped her hips, rubbed his entire face into her shivering folds as he found his own long, hard release and spilled himself into Elena's throat as she continued to consume him.

The two of them lay there on the floor, bodies shivering in completion while they were wrapped together, neither one stopping until they were completely spent.

The kitchen was finally silent except for the sound of their heavy breathing. Elena rolled off his body so he could breathe, and he caught her around the waist to help her crawl up next to him before she collapsed on her belly.

"Best. Breakfast. Ever," Damon said in a husky voice. His chest still rose and fell rapidly.

Elena let out a breathless giggle next to him, and laughed harder as she caught her breath.

The sound of her laughter was infectious, and Damon roared with amusement. He pulled her sticky body on top of his.

"We are a mess," she snorted gleefully.

The kitchen floor was smeared with chocolate everywhere, and Elena's hair and face still had remnants of the sticky sweet dotting her creamy skin. She still chortled with delight as their eyes met, hers filled with joy.

To Damon, she had never looked more beautiful. He got to his feet and pulled her up beside him, wrapped his arms around her waist and bent down to rub his nose against hers affectionately. He kissed her tenderly, savouring the feel of her in his arms.

As he pulled back, he could see a small red mark on her neck. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, remorseful as he traced a finger lightly over the spot.

"No," she answered with a sated sigh. "I love it when you lose control." She wrapped her arms around his neck. "This morning was so…" She stopped, seemingly unable to find the right words.

"Kinky," Damon finished with a wicked grin.

She nodded and smiled back at him.

"Sweetie, you haven't seen kinky yet," he told her huskily.

Her eyes lit up. "There's more?"

Damon laughed. Her enthusiastic look amused him. "A whole lot more."

She laughed. "Oh, dear! Then both of us could never get to work today."

"You have probably made it damned hard for me to keep my mind on my business today, but I will make such a sacrifice any day." He tightened his arms around her convulsively.

x x x

The vast ballroom of the hotel with its soaring marble columns, glittering crystal chandeliers, and magnificent vaulted ceiling was splendid. Near the centre of the room was an orchestra playing a salute to Rodgers and Hart. Fountains bearded with glittering artificial icicles spouted geysers of sparkling champagne while waiters circulated among the guests, offering hors d'oeuvres to those who didn't wish to help themselves from the giant silver-plated tiers laden with food.

Tonight, the lavishness of the decorations were enhanced by the glitter of jewelled silks and brocaded velvets, as the patrons of the opera, who'd turned out en masse, paused in their laughing conversations to pose for photographers from the media or strolled about, greeting friends. Near the centre of the room, Sarah Salvatore stood beside Brian Walker, his hand possessively at her waist, accepting good wishes from friends and acquaintances who'd read about their engagement. When the last group drifted away, Sarah excused herself to go to the bathroom. As she walked towards the bathroom, she took her phone out from her bag and dialled the number. The phone was answered on the second ring.

"Is he here yet?"

A subdued commotion erupted off to her right before she could answer, and she looked in that direction, watching as television crews and newspaper reporters, who had been wandering among the guests or standing on the side-lines, suddenly galvanized into action, rushing toward their prey. Flashes from cameras started going off, and Sarah leaned farther to the right, catching a glimpse of the press mobbing the dark-haired man in tuxedo. Television cameras were aiming at his face as he moved forward through the explosion of flashbulbs and the throng of reporters waving microphones at him. "He has just arrived."

"Good. Everything is ready."

"Good." She smiled as she hung up.

"He is here," Phil Carter whispered to Zach Salvatore.

Spotting Damon standing by the centre of the room surrounded by a group of bankers, Zach lifted his chin and struck off in that direction.

Damon was laughing at a joke when he caught sight of Zach and Phil walking across the room and his smile abruptly faded. "Excuse me a minute," he said to one of the bankers from LA.

"It is good to see you again, Zach," Damon said with his most deliberately disarming smile. "Nice to see you too, Phil."

"May we speak to you alone?" Phil asked.

"There's a ball going on," he pointed out evasively. "Why not enjoy yourselves, gentlemen?"

Zach's jaw tightened. "This really can't wait."

With no choice, Damon nodded and followed them into a corner. "Now tell me what you want," he said curtly. "I don't have time to play your games, Zach."

"You have heard about the financial crisis of Salvatore Industries?" Phil said.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did."

"Someone is trying to push the value of our stock down," Zach scowled. "Someone is trying to take over our company."

"And what the hell I have to do with this?" Damon looked at them. "Do you think I'm responsible for it?"

Zach narrowed his eyes. "Are you?"

Damon's jaw tightened. "No. I had nothing to do with the rumours."

Phil's frown cleared, but only for a moment. "We are in trouble, Damon. There's been an unusual amount of interest in our stock on the market. It drove the price up until last week, when the price began dropping because of the rumours."

"I bet you have made a hell lot of enemies all these years, Zach," Damon said flatly.

An attractive waitress came towards them with a tray of drinks. "Do you want some champagne, sir? We also have bourbon."

"Thanks." Damon took the glass of bourbon while the other two men declined the offer.

Phil waited until the waitress left before continuing. "It will be weeks before we know the names of those who have bought our stock lately. Even when we do, it may not tell us anything significant. If a company wants to keep their intention of taking us over a secret, they won't be buying our stock in their own names. They will have other people buy it for them as well. They may even be illegally parking the stock in accounts with fake names." He gave Damon a wry look. "You already know all about how it's done, don't you?"

Damon quirked an amused brow at him. "No comment."

"One company you started to take over a few months ago paid you fifty million just to go away and leave them alone. We couldn't do that, and we don't have the kind of money right now that it would take to try to fight a takeover," Zach said miserably. "Salvatore Industries is a family business. I can't let someone else takeover the company."

Damon took a sip of the bourbon. The taste was strong but it was why he liked it. "What's on your mind?"

"We need that land in Mystic Falls," Phil answered. "Badly."

"Then buy it," Damon snapped.

"You are asking for thirty millions!" Zach retorted. "We can't afford it, for goodness sake!"

"Sarah is engaged to Brian Walker. I'm sure Brian can help you," Damon said sarcastically.

"No, he can't."

"Why can't he?"

Phil sighed. "Because Walker Mercantile is looking for money right now, not lending big sums of it to over borrowed customers like us. I wouldn't be surprised if poor Brian isn't worried about Salvatore Industries being able to keep making payments on the loans we already have with him."

"He is a big boy," Damon said flatly, tossing the bourbon down, "he can take the heat. If he lent you more money than he should have, it's his own fault, and he will figure out a way to cut his losses."

"You want Salvatore Industries being taken over by another company?" Zach said his voice tight with rage. "Don't you forget you are also a Salvatore."

Damon looked at him. "What do you want me to do?"

"We are happy to pay you fifth-teen million for that land in Mystic Falls," Phil added. "We believe our stock value will increase once we announce the new development."

"I don't think it will work," Damon said.

Zach looked at him. "What? Why?"

"Someone wants Salvatore Industries desperately. They will do anything to get it. Buying that land in Mystic Falls will not help" The lights inside the ballroom had become uncomfortably bright. Damon decided it was time to leave. "Let me think about it. Ask your secretary to contact my secretary to arrange a meeting."

"We will do that," Phil replied with a smile on his face.

The lights were too bright and they were painful now. Damon had to squint his eyes. "I need to go."

"We will contact your secretary tomorrow."

Damon nodded as let himself out into the ballroom. He stood still for a moment, wondering why it was so cold. Strange. Alcohol was supposed to keep you warm. But he still felt cold. Very cold.

He had to get out. The glare of the lights inside the hotel was so dazzling it hurt his eyes. It was cold as well. Very cold. He pulled his tuxedo jacket close to his body and made his way down the broad steps to the parking lot.

He climbed behind the wheel and sat quietly for a moment, enchanted by the way the lights around him. Liquid gold. He would like to make love to Elena in the beautiful light. But Elena was not here. He needed to find her.

He got the car going after a couple of tries and drove out of the parking lot. The road back to his penthouse seemed to have more curves than he remembered. It twisted into infinity. He was struck with a sudden flash of insight. The answers he was looking for were at his penthouse . All he had to do was keep driving. Elena would be waiting for him.

The world had a crystalline purity, as if his vision had been enhanced. Everything from the boughs of the trees to the white lines on the pavement was as sharp and clear as if it had been made of glass. The colours were amazing. He had never been so aware of the many shades of nature.

Even the scene in his rear-view mirror was vivid. The large SUV coming up fast behind him had a cinematic quality. He laughed, wondering if he had accidentally taken a wrong turn and driven into a movie.

The SUV was closer now. The windows were heavily tinted. He could not make out the driver's face. Probably a stuntman. It was starting to look like one of those films in which the bad guy tried to force the good guy off the road.

His condominum was coming up soon. One more curve.

The SUV pulled out to pass. Now, that was just stupid. It was also illegal as hell. But this was a movie. The bad guys did stupid, illegal things in films and got away with it, at least until the very end.

Okay, fine. If the bad guy wanted to risk his neck passing on a curve, that was his problem.

But he didn't want to be in a movie, Damon thought. He wanted to find Elena and make love to her in the liquid-gold light dancing around him. Oh, yeah, and find the answers at the end of the ride.

The big SUV was alongside now. Close. Way too close. Suddenly the script became crystal clear, just like everything else. This was it, the big scene where the bad guy tried to send the good guy over a cliff.

But the good guy was not in a mood to act. He just wanted to find Elena. Damned stuntman was in the way.

Damon hit the brakes hard, slamming to a halt. There was a screech of metal as the rear fender of the SUV clipped the front of the car.

The stunt driver must not have expected that change in the script, because the SUV overcorrected wildly, barely managing to stay on the pavement. In the next instant, it was gone, vanishing around the next curve.

Damon sat quietly for a time, contemplating the view through the windshield. Adrenaline flooded through him, temporarily clearing his thoughts. He eased the car onto the lay-by and shut down the engine.

The dazzling light and the crystalline world blazed around him. He was once again lost in the wonder of it all. Where had he been going? Elena. He was on his way to find Elena. But for some reason he did not think it would be a good idea to drive any farther.

He took out his phone and looked at it for a while, admiring the illuminated screen. Who did he want to call?

Elena.

With exquisite care, he tapped the screen with her name on it. She answered on the first ring.

"Hey, I thought you are at the charity ball."

"Hi," he said. "I want to make love to you, but I don't know if there's going to be time because I might die. So, I called to say good-bye."

"Damon. What's wrong?"

"I was in this movie and the stuntman tried to force me off the road."

"Good grief. You sound drunk."

"Nope. Just had a glass of bourbon is all."

"Where are you?"

"Near my condominium, I think. Let me check." He surveyed his surroundings. "Everything is very sparkly, but I'm pretty sure I'm just close to my condominium."

"Near your condominium? You are sure?" She sounded tense but very patient, as if speaking to a child. "I'm on the way to your condominium."

"Yes, I'm pretty sure." He heard a heavy engine revving in the distance. "Oops, got to go. I think the stuntman is coming back."

"What stuntman? Listen, don't move. Do you understand? Stay right where you are. I'm on my way."

"Good-bye, Elena."

The big vehicle was coming closer now. The engine was slowing.

"I think I should get out of the car," Damon said.

He cut the connection and fumbled with the seat belt. Another wave of adrenaline sluiced through him. He managed to engage in close-quarter combat with the door until he got it open. He stumbled along the pavement, not sure why he needed to get out of sight but not questioning the instinct.

His head was spinning, but he managed to walk along the road. There was a tall building nearby. It was liquid gold. He watched it, fascinated. But he knew he had to keep walking to the building.

He heard the vehicle cruise slowly past the road, but it did not stop. Damon remembered that he had left the driver's-side door of the car open. He wondered what the person behind the wheel of the SUV made of that. Then he heard another vehicle arrive. Tires squealed. Car door slammed. But the big engine of the SUV was gone.

"Damon?"

Elena's voice made him turned around. He saw her running towards him, anguish on her face.

"Hi," he said.

"Damon," Elena said. "Dear heaven."

She rushed toward him.

"What the hell is going on?" Elena demanded as she reached him. "Here, give me the car key. You are in no condition to handle it."

"I know," he said. "Couldn't think of anything else apart from you."

Another wave of dizziness swept over him. He gave the keys to her.

And then Elena was in his arms and that was all that mattered. He stopped fighting the darkness and fell into the deep.

x x x

The movie continues…

CUT TO:

EMERGENCY ROOM

There was a team of medical personnel dressed in scrubs. Elena is standing at the foot of the bed, anxious. Enzo was behind her. He was grim-faced.

DOCTOR

No signs of trauma. Vitals normal.

Doctor checked patient's arms and then moved to foot of bed, forcing Elena to step back. Doctor examined patient between the toes.

DOCTOR

No needle tracks.

ELENA

Outraged.

Of course there are no needle tracks. Damon doesn't do drugs.

DOCTOR

With AMS, we have to assume drugs are a possibility. We will know more when the labs come back.

PATIENT

I'm okay.

No one paid any attention. They hadn't heard him.

ENZO

What's AMS?

DOCTOR

Altered mental status. You are sure there's no history of drug use?

ENZO

She's right. A couple of bourbon or some wine in the evening. That's it.

DOCTOR

Speaking to other members of the medical staff.

Take him to X-ray. I want a CT scan of his head.

PATIENT

Louder this time.

I'm okay, damn it.

Everyone looked at patient. Elena smiled, relieved.

ELENA

He's okay.

PATIENT

Right. I'm okay. I want to go home.

DOCTOR

Gave patient a stern look.

Do you remember what you ate or drank before your wife brought you in here?

PATIENT

Looked at Elena, winked and smiled.

Hi, wife.

Elena frowned in warning. Patient got the message. She lied about her relationship to the patient in order to get her into the exam room.

DOCTOR

Speaking firmly to patient.

Mr. Salvatore, do you remember what you ingested before you got here?

PATIENT

Concentrated hard.

Bourbon. I think.

DOCTOR

Do you remember the hallucinations?

PATIENT

I think I was in a movie.

DOCTOR

Are you still in a movie?

PATIENT

Realized there probably was a right answer and a wrong answer. Took a chance.

Nope. Movie's over.

DOCTOR

Looking like he didn't believe patient.

Glad to hear it. But just to make sure the film has a happy ending, you are going to spend the night with us, Mr. Salvatore. If your vitals remain stable and your neurological signs look good, you can go home in the morning.

PATIENT

Damn.


	15. Chapter 15

"Stop looking at me like that," Damon said.

"Like what?" Elena asked.

"Like you are wondering if I'm going to keel over at any minute." Damon drank some of the lemonade in his glass. "I feel fine. The overnight in the hospital was the worst part."

They were in the living room of Damon's penthouse. Elena and Damon were on the sofa. She had one leg tucked under her thigh and one foot on the floor. Damon lounged next to her. Enzo was braced against the bar.

It had been a very long night for Enzo and herself, Elena thought. They had spent it at Damon's bedside, watching closely as he slipped in and out of a restless sleep. But by morning, the effects of the hallucinogen had fully dissipated. A social worker had stopped in long enough to suggest counselling for any self-medication problems he might be having. Damon, Elena and Enzo had glared at her. The social worker had gotten an odd look on her face and had hurried out of the room. The ER doctor, no longer worrying about being sued for malpractice due to having discharged a patient too soon, cleared Damon to go home. He had been released with two pages of instructions that he had wadded up and tossed into a trash can on the way out the door.

"Last night was bad," Elena said. "But the worst part was not the hospital. The worst part is that someone tried to kill you."

"Yeah, that wasn't so good," Damon admitted. He swirled the lemonade in his glass and looked thoughtful. "I wonder who is behind this."

"Someone drugged the bourbon," Enzo said. "That's the only reasonable explanation."

Elena shuddered. "I find it hard to believe that someone cold-bloodedly tried to poison you right there in a charity ball."

"Well, it wasn't like there was a more convenient place," Damon said. "I never saw it coming."

Enzo snorted. "Well, one thing for sure, someone knew you were going to be at the ball."

"What the hell is going on here?" Damon said.

"Someone tried to kill you, damn it." Enzo gripped the glass of Coke, his eyes going very dark and cold. "Someone drugged you and then tried to force you off the road. That's cold-blooded attempted murder. The only reason I didn't call the police was that we don't have a shred of proof. So, what are we going to do about this situation?"

Damon took another swig of lemonade and set the glass aside. "We are going to figure out what the hell is going on and then find some proof."

"But who wants to kill you?" Elena said uneasily.

"I have some memory of the impact," Damon said. "I braked hard to let the driver of the SUV get past me."

"That's probably what saved you," Enzo said. "Remember anything about the vehicle that sideswiped you?"

"Not much," Damon said. "I was hallucinating wildly at the time - the movie thing. I remember wondering if I was in the middle of a car-chase scene. A big vehicle was coming up fast behind me, an SUV, I think. Black. Tinted windows. But I could be wrong. There was a lot of glare off the windshield. Couldn't see the driver."

"Big black SUV with tinted windows describes about half the vehicles on the road in this part of the state," Enzo said. "But Wes may be able to come up with something."

Damon considered that briefly and then nodded once. "I spoke to Wes this morning. He knows what to do."

"Do you think Zach Salvatore is behind this?" Enzo asked.

Elena's eyes widened. "Zach? But Damon is his nephew."

Damon shook his head. "I don't think Zach wants to kill me."

Enzo frowned. "He is pissed because you bought that land in Mystic Falls."

"He needs me to save Salvatore Industries. He won't kill me."

Damon stood up from the sofa. Elena watched him uneasily but he was steady on his feet as he walked towards the balcony.

"Someone wants Salvatore Industries badly and he has to get rid of me," Damon said softly. "Have you managed to find out the information that I want?"

"Yes. I have sent a copy to your email. The hard copies are inside the envelope." Enzo pointed at the large brown envelope lying on the coffee table. "But Damon, I think you should reconsider your decision again, especially after what had happened last night."

Damon didn't look at him. "I know what I'm doing."

Enzo sighed. "I better go now. You should take a few days off work."

"I will call you once I have read the information."

"Sure."

Elena watched Enzo left the penthouse.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Damon turned to look at her. "I need to clear my head and think."

Alarmed, she peered at his eyes. "What do you mean? Are you feeling woozy again? Are you seeing things?"

"No, I'm fine. Stop checking out my pupil size. I just want to stand outside on the balcony and think for a while."

He caught her hand, threaded her fingers through his, and opened the balcony door before stepping onto the patio.

Elena felt the strength in his hand and told herself to relax. Damon was back to normal.

"I know I shouldn't interfere with your business. But you are onto something, aren't you?" she said after a while. Turning, she studied him with renewed intensity, watching for his reaction as she said, "You are planning to take over Salvatore Industries."

His expression remained unchanged, unreadable. Guarded? Elena wondered. "You want revenge."

"You are right," he said, and from his cool, clipped tone, she knew he meant what he said.

She grabbed the high railings. "Are you behind those financial crisis rumours?"

"No."

Elena searched his face for some indication that he was telling her the truth, but his expression was completely unemotional.

"I'm not responsible for any of that," he said. "I won't deny that I started buying shares of Salvatore Industries' stock to retaliate against Zach. I bought the original blocks of stock with every intention of accumulating enough to gain either a seat on the board of directors or possibly a controlling interest."

She swallowed, but said nothing.

"Later, when I found out there might be another company who is after Salvatore Industries, I began to realise how important Salvatore Industries is to my father. I was prepared to buy however much stock it would take to gain control of the board of directors. Salvatore Industries has to be controlled by a Salvatore, not someone else."

"You are going to continue buying the stock, aren't you?" she asked quietly.

"I think we are dealing with someone who is very determined to own Salvatore Industries." Damon paused. "Someone who considers me a threat and therefore he or she has to get rid of me."

Elena shuddered. "You will have to tell the police."

"We don't have any evidence yet. If I go to the police now, I would be treated like a crackpot, or, worse, made into their newest suspect."

"Do you have any idea who is behind this?"

"I don't. But something doesn't feel right," Damon said. He tightened his fingers on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. "Last night, when I was in the middle of that damn movie—"

"You mean when you were hallucinating."

"When I was hallucinating, I pulled over on the road and took out my phone. I was aware enough of what was happening to know that I should call nine-one-one, but I also knew that whoever had tried to force me off the road might come back to finish the job. Just in case, I wanted to say good-bye to you."

She cupped his face in her hands. "You scared the daylights out of me."

His mouth crooked at the corner. "Yeah, sorry about that. I was too messed up to realize how you would react." He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck. "Elena, you are, by far, the best thing that ever happened to me in my thirty-seven years on this earth."

She knew that the declaration was fuelled, at least in part, by the charged emotions generated by his near-death experience. But in that moment, she did not care. She, too, was dealing with some strong emotions, mostly the aftershocks caused by the forces of fear and anxiety followed by overwhelming relief at the knowledge that Damon had not died.

"You are very important in my life, too," she said. "I will never forget you."

"Elena," he said. He drew her closer. "Sweetie. Now that you have come back into my life, I don't want to let you go. Ever."

He kissed her before she could demand a clarification of that enigmatic sentence. She reminded herself that he had been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours. He might be saying things—feeling things—that he might not say and feel when reality had once again fully asserted itself. Maybe the same went for her.

But in the meantime, she could not think of any sane reason not to abandon herself to the hot rush of desire and the intense intimacy that she experienced when she was in Damon's arms.

She returned the kiss with all of the passion that he ignited in her. His mouth was hot, fierce and exciting. He held her close and tight against him, making her aware of his own arousal.

He finally raised his head and did a quick scan of their surroundings. "Not here," he said. "Not safe."

The realization that he had just nixed making love out outside the balcony not because he was afraid someone might see them but rather because he did not think it was safe made her catch her breath.

"Do you really think someone might be watching us?" she asked, glancing around.

"I can't imagine anyone sneaking up on us with a loaded gun, but I would rather not take any chances. When I make love to you, I prefer to concentrate on the sex."

"When you put it like that…"

"And there's always the potential problem of being photographed by some reporters," he added.

She laughed. "I never thought of that. You are right. We definitely don't want to do this kind of thing outside the balcony."

He laughed, too, his masculine anticipation and triumph ringing in the clear, sun-warmed air. He caught her hand and pushed her inside the penthouse.

The exhilaration he felt knowing that in a few minutes he was going to be making love to Elena set fire to his blood. They dashed to his bedroom together. Elena was a little breathless. Her eyes were brilliant with feminine mystery and desire.

He tumbled her onto her back on the bed and came down on top of her, bracing himself on his hands. He looked down at her, savouring the knowledge that, for now, at least, she was his. She wanted him, and that was the most intoxicating drug of all.

He used one hand to open the front of her shirt. Her bra was a sexy little scrap of black lace. He unsnapped the front clasp and freed her dainty breasts.

"You are so lovely," he marvelled.

She smiled. "I don't know about lovely, but when you look at me like that, I definitely feel hot."

"That, too." He kissed one pink nipple. "Very, very hot."

"It's your fault," she said. She started to unfasten the buttons of his shirt. "Do you think that we might accidentally set fire to the sheets?"

"Who cares?" He opened the front of her trousers. "There are more where those came from."

He got her out of her clothes and impatiently shed his own. He lowered himself back down onto her, inserting his leg between hers, separating her thighs. The scent of her arousal hardened every muscle in his body. He moved his hand down her hip and then to her hot, warm core.

He groaned, pulling on all of his willpower to keep himself from coming then and there.

He put his mouth on the soft skin of her shoulder and bit gently. "I love how you get so wet so fast for me."

He stroked her, finding the trigger spots that he had learned in the course of their first night together. She clenched herself around the two fingers he had inside her. He probed gently, deliberately. She sucked in her breath. Her nails bit into his shoulders.

"There," she got out. "Yes, there."

He gave a hoarse laugh. "You learn fast."

He used his mouth on her, starting with her breasts and moving lower and lower until she gasped and clutched at his head, snagging her fingers in his hair.

"What are you doing?" she yelped. "No, wait, I'm not sure…"

But it was too late, she was already climaxing. He could feel the delicate waves shivering through her lower body, taste the essence of her. She shrieked.

"Damon."

When it was over she collapsed, laughing, breathless, blushing.

"That was amazing," she said, sounding and looking stunned. "Absolutely amazing. I have never wanted anyone to do that before. I wasn't sure I wanted you to do it."

"You are delicious," he said. He kissed her shoulder. "Everywhere. I like it when you scream my name the way you did just then. I like it a lot."

She used her palms to push him slightly away from her.

"Show me what you like," she said.

Curiosity and determination illuminated her eyes.

He smiled slowly. "Trust me, I like everything you do to me."

"I'm serious. I want to know what works for you—what really works."

She slipped her palm down the front of his chest and captured him in her hand. She pumped him slowly, tightening her fingers until he thought he would go a little mad.

"That works," he managed, his voice suddenly tight. "That definitely works."

She giggled, rolled him onto his back and kissed his throat, his chest, and then she went lower. When he felt her tongue on him, he knew he had reached the breaking point.

"Now," he said. "I need to be inside you right now."

He caught hold of her arms and pulled her back up his body so that she sat astride him. He used one hand to guide himself into her, holding his breath while he strained violently against his own self-imposed control.

Then he was surging deep into her snug, wet heat. She tried to glide up and down on him, but he caught her hips, forcing her to let him set the rhythm. She tightened herself around him. So tight. Impossibly tight. He could not take any more.

His climax hit him in a shattering rush. He abandoned himself to the tide and let it sweep him out to sea.

x x x

It was all falling apart.

The carefully conceived plan was going to crash and burn, Sarah thought. Hell, her whole life had been going in the wrong direction since that day when her mother left.

It was as if she had been driving down a dark road for years and was now thoroughly lost. She had taken any number of wrong turns along the way, trying to find the right route, but each miscalculation had made things worse.

She couldn't change the course of her own life, Sarah thought. Nothing seemed to be right for her. Except for Mason. He was the only right move she had ever made, and now she was going to lose him. She didn't want to marry Brian. She only wanted Mason.

She swallowed some of the vodka and orange juice she had mixed for herself and went to stand at the window. She stared, unseeing, at the elegantly laid-out garden of the hotel. It looked like the garden of her house. She hated the house, just as she loathed Zach Salvatore. There had been a time in her life when she had believed that she would one day inherit the empire her father had built and go on to make it even larger and more powerful. She had clung to those dreams for years, desperately trying to please a father who could never be appeased, let alone pleased.

Zach Salvatore didn't love her, not enough to want her to be happy. And anything less than that wasn't love, it was nothing but selfish ownership of another human being. No matter how hard she had tried to impress him, he still didn't love her as his daughter.

Sarah knew that she should walk away when Zach wanted her to marry Brian Walker. Instead, she had allowed Mason to talk her into staying. And then had come the news of the bad investment, and with it the opportunity of a lifetime to exact revenge. If the takeover was successful, Salvatore Industries would belong to both Mason and her.

But it was falling apart because of Damon Salvatore.

She glanced at the grim face of Mason and pulled the report over in front of her. The report was a lengthy background check that Mason had run on Damon. On it, Mason had put red circles around the names of every company Damon owned, every legitimate business enterprise he was involved in, and there were dozens of them. Eight of the names had large red X's beside them. She looked at the other report, which contained the names of the people, institutions, and companies that had recently acquired more than a 1,000-share block of stock in Salvatore Industries, and her heart began to thud with dread: Those eight names with the red X's on the investigative report about Damon also appeared on the list of new shareholders. Combined, Damon had already acquired a gigantic block of stock in Salvatore Industries, all of it purchased in names other than his own or Intercorp's.

"That's only the beginning," Mason said. "That shareholder list isn't up-to-date, and the investigative report on Damon Salvatore is incomplete. God knows how many additional shares he has bought or in what names."

"Are you sure your information is correct?" she asked cautiously.

"One hundred percent," Mason said in frustrated fury. "That bastard already owns the property you want in Mystic Falls, and God knows how much he owns of us! He's already got enough shares to vote himself a seat on our board right now…"

She had to do something. She couldn't let anyone stop her plan, including Damon. There must be a way to win this battle.

She heard the heavy footsteps in the hall and dropped down into her chair. She took another swallow of the vodka and orange juice to fortify herself and waited.

The connecting door of the suite slammed open. Zach stormed into the room.

"What the hell is going on?" Zach demanded. "Phil and I saw Damon Salvatore at the charity ball last night. This morning it is all over town that he was in a car accident and wound up in the hospital."

Sarah lounged back in her chair and stacked her heels on the corner of the desk. She took another pull on her drink.

"Everyone is talking, Dad."

Zach frowned. "Talking about what?"

"You want to get rid of Damon Salvatore."

Zach's face flushed a dull red. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Apparently, Damon was poisoned at the charity ball."

"It's got nothing to do with me," Zach said, his face flushing.

"But everyone knows about the feud between you and Damon Salvatore," Sarah countered, not backing down. "You want him dead."

"That's not true!"

"You are cold-hearted! You swooped in and stole everything from Damon's father – Salvatore Industries, the money he was left, everything!" Sarah took a breath, not backing up even the slightest as she pushed her words out through her teeth. "Intercorp bought that land in Mystic Falls and you want revenge."

"No!"

"You arranged a meeting with Damon Salvatore at the charity ball and then poisoned his drink. And you tried to run him off the road to make it look like an accident."

Zach stared at her. "Shut your damn mouth."

"You are a monster!"

"It's not true." Zach's face was splotchy with rage. "None of it's true. I swear, if you don't stop talking like this—"

"You will do what?" Sarah slammed the glass down on her desk and surged to her feet. "Cut me out of your will? Go for it, Dad. Damned if I care."

"I'm your father. How can you talk to me like that?"

"I have talked to the police."

Zach's eyes widened. "You what?"

"The police will question you about Damon's case."

"For what?"

"You are a suspect. A murder suspect."

"No!" he screamed as he gripped his chest. His body stiffened, as if electrified. "No…"

"Dad?"

In the next instant, he crumpled to the floor. His eyes had closed, and he didn't respond.

"Dad!"

Phil came through the doorway. He stared at the lifeless body on the ground. "Oh, my God! What just happened in here?"

"Dad…" Sarah said shakily. "Dad was in rage…"

Phil snatched the phone on the table, punched in 911, and began babbling as soon as the operatory answered. He shouted the address. "He is unconscious! Send an ambulance. Hurry, hurry!"

x x x

Damon was buckling the black leather belt of his jeans when his phone rang.

"Perfect timing," he said to Elena. He crossed the small space to the end table.

Elena was in the process of buttoning her blouse over the lacy black bra. She smiled at him in the dresser mirror.

"You look good like that," he said. He could feel his body heating again.

She tucked her blouse into the waistband of her trousers. Her eyes gleamed with sexy mischief.

"I look good dressed?" she asked.

"That way, too, but you look really, really good after hot sex. You are all sort of pink and soft and cuddly." He gave up trying to find the right words. "I don't know. Good."

The phone rang again. He glanced at the screen and his incipient arousal instantly metamorphosed into another kind of heat.

"What have you got for me, Wes?"

"Maybe something," Wes said. "Maybe nothing."

"Never mind. Tell me what you have got."

"Well, the S&M Trust has bought up almost ten percent of Salvatore Industries' stock in the last two months."

"S&M Trust?"

"Yes. "

Damon watched Elena bustle around the bedroom, tidying the tumbled bedding. She looked adorable. The headboard scraped against the wall when she tucked in one corner of the sheet.

"What's that?" Wes asked.

"Nothing. Have you got anything else for me?"

"Mason Lockwood is the founder of S&M Trust."

Elena was tucking in the corners of the quilt now. The headboard groaned.

"Are you moving furniture or something?" Wes asked.

"Tell me about Mason Lockwood, Wes."

"Where are you?"

"At my penthouse. Mason Lockwood. Wes."

"Oh, yeah, right. Mason Lockwood. He is the youngest brother of Richard Lockwood, the current mayor of Mystic Falls."

"I know who is Mason Lockwood. We went to Whitmore together but we were in different class."

"I guess you didn't know Mason and Sarah Salvatore were in a relationship."

"Relationship?"

"Yes. Sarah was dating Mason until two years ago."

"Go on."

"There are rumours that Sarah is still seeing Mason despite being engaged with Brian Walker."

"Mason Lockwood is deliberately manipulating Salvatore Industries' stock." Damon paused. "He is using the insider information that he had gleaned from Sarah to make his transactions."

"It is possible."

Elena walked past him and paused at the doorway. "I will make you a cup of tea."

With a smile, she disappeared out into the hall.

"Are you with someone?" Wes asked.

"Find out more about S&M Trust. I want to know much he owns Salvatore Industries."

Damon ended the connection and went swiftly out of the room into the kitchen. He watched as Elena rummaged through the cupboards and rifled through the fridge. He smiled because she looked so damn adorable as she scrutinized everything, looking like she wasn't sure what any of the packages were or what to do with them.

"Let me guess…you want to cook something?" He crossed his arms and rested his ass against the counter.

She turned her head and gave him a questioning look. "How did you know?"

"Maybe because you just passed over plenty of edible items, but ignored every one of them because it requires some kind of preparation." He moved to the refrigerator. "I can do the cooking," he insisted.

"You are supposed to be resting," she protested. "You nearly died last night."

"But I'm not dead." He inspected the contents of the freezer. "I'm still capable of making lunch." He had sundried tomatoes, cheese, and some asparagus. "How does pesto pasta with sun dried tomatoes and roasted asparagus sound?"

"I'm not picky," she agreed readily. "Show me how and I will do it."

"I can do the cooking."

"You should rest."

"Cooking a simple meal isn't hard labour," he told her jokingly. "Sit." He motioned toward the kitchen table.

"You are a billionaire. You don't need to cook for yourself," she grumbled as she sat down.

"I like cooking for you, sweetie."

Half an hour later Damon put a plate of pasta in front of her. While gathering utensils, he reached into the refrigerator and grabbed two cans of soda and brought them to the table before sitting across from her. "See. Not so hard," he told her with a teasing smile.

"You make it look easy," she muttered in a deep voice.

"I had heaps of practise when I was a kid," he explained. "I had to look after Stefan."

"I know. You are the big brother."

When they had finished, Elena refused to let him get up from the table and help her clean up.

"You cooked. I can clean. I know how to put dishes in the dishwasher," she insisted as she motioned him back into his chair.

Damon sat back down and watched as Elena moved efficiently around the kitchen. She might not be able to cook, but she made short work of loading the dishes and then starting the dishwasher.

He loved her. He loved her so much and it made him want to share everything with her.

"Elena." He grasped her by her upper arms, and swung her around to face him. "You are the most incredible, sweet, generous woman I have ever known," he admitted in a hoarse voice full of emotion.

She looked at him quizzically. "Because I help you to put dishes in the dishwasher?"

"No," he answered urgently. "When I thought I was going to die last night, I knew I missed out on something very important."

"What?"

"You and I weren't married yet."

She gaped at him, his expression earnest and sincere. "We aren't married, Damon," she reminded him. Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it thunder in her ears.

"I want to marry you. Now. I want us to stay married forever, Elena. I want you with me wherever I go, and I want to be with you wherever you need to travel. I don't want to separate—not in a week, not in this lifetime." He looked at her covetously, pensively.

"Really?" she asked tremulously. Her eyes started to tear. "You want to marry me?" She wanted Damon more than she wanted anything in the world.

"I have never been more serious. I don't want anyone else, sweetie. Just you." His low voice vibrated with intensity.

He pulled her into his arms, wrapped them around her securely. "I need you, Elena. Please stay with me. I need your sweetness to balance out the asshole in me. I need your huge, generous heart to remind me that not everyone cares about money. I need to be wanted for something other than my bank account. I need you to fight with me when I'm giving you too much shit. And I won't complain about your career." He hesitated before he added, "Well, I will try not to complain about it too much."

Elena's heart swelled with every word he uttered. She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her face into his shoulder. "And I promise I will learn to cook."

He laughed. "You don't have to." He stroked his hand over her hair. "I will look after you."

Pulling back, she looked into his glorious blue eyes. "A wife should learn to cook," she told him bluntly.

He chuckled. "Fine with me." He touched her cheek gently. "You will marry me then?"

"Yes, you crazy, beautiful man. I want to be with you more than I want anything or anyone," Elena replied breathlessly. "I'm addicted to you."

Damon grinned. "It worked. I got you hooked on sex."

"I'm not addicted to sex," she protested. "I'm addicted to you."

Leaving a firm arm around her waist, Damon grasped her left hand and brought it to his mouth to kiss her finger. "Move in with me, Elena."

A startled laugh escaped her. "You are desperate, aren't you?"

"Yes, I'm desperate," he answered roughly, his liquid blue eyes molten with emotion. "I'm not giving you a choice."

"I wouldn't choose anyone else," she told him gently as she lifted her hand to stroke his jaw.

"Thank God!" He picked her up by the waist and spun her around. "No more talk of leaving me. Ever," he insisted bossily.

"Never," she replied with a happy laugh as she found her footing on the ground again.

"Come with me." He clasped her hand in his and pulled her along behind him. "I need to be inside you, Elena."

She wanted him, too, and she understood what he was feeling. Her core clenched with the need to have him move inside her, giving her assurance that they weren't parting. It was a need that went deeper than physical pleasure, a validation of their agreement to stay together. "Yes." Her body craved to be joined to his.

"You are mine now," Damon said covetously and laid her on his bed. He joined their hands, twined their fingers together and pinned them over her head as he took her mouth with breath-taking swiftness.

Elena way to him immediately, opened her mouth to let him plunder, and moaned against his kiss. Her body fired red-hot as she melted into his hard, muscular form, just as needy as him to feel them joined. She met his tongue, tangled it with hers, and let him claim her just as surely as she claimed him.

The phone rang.

"Damon." Her hands pushed against his chest. "Your phone."

"Ignore it," he said huskily as he nuzzled her ear.

Laughing softly, she pushed harder against his chest. "Maybe it is important."

Cursing under his breath, Damon rolled off her and grabbed the phone. "Your call better be important because Elena and I are having a moment."

"I didn't want to interrupt," Enzo said.

Damon grunted. "You did interrupt."

"Sorry."

"Talk, Enzo."

"You haven't heard?"

Enzo's tone sent a chill through him. His happy bubble burst. "What haven't I heard?"

"Zach Salvatore had a cardiac arrest a few hours ago. He is now in the intensive care unit."


	16. Chapter 16

Shadows pooled inside room 322. The machines hummed and hissed and beeped like some high-tech Greek chorus heralding the inevitable. Zach Salvatore's eyes were closed. He was hooked up to an IV line. His breathing was harsh, as if it took everything he had just to grab the next breath. He looked exhausted beyond bearing.

Sarah went to the bed and gripped the rail. There was very little that could arouse strong emotion in her, but looking down at the father who had wounded her, she felt something familiar and powerful stir deep inside. Rage.

He wounded her, and she would forever bear the scars.

Some girls grew up feeling like princesses, their fathers doting on them, telling them that Daddy would always be there. That no boy would ever be quite good enough for Daddy's little girl. That they were sweet and smart and beautiful and that the world was there for them to conquer. Words spoken with affection and coloured by love.

Sarah knew those girls but she was never one of them. Her father hadn't been so kind to her since the day her mother left. She would never forget when she was six years old. Her mother had left Mystic Falls suddenly. From that moment on, her life had been hell.

Her father told her almost daily that her mother was a cheating whore and he had to make sure she would to the right things. The right things according to Zach Salvatore's standard.

She was tired trying to impress Zach. She felt exhausted. All these years, she had tried her very best to make sure she was the ideal daughter of Zach Salvatore. But she wasn't going to marry a man she didn't love in order to impress her father.

Mason Lockwood was the love of her life. But Zach Salvatore hadn't approved of her relationship with the mayor's youngest brother.

Brian Walker was the perfect son-in-law according to Zach Salvatore. Brian was the only son of one of the top bankers in Los Angeles, and he was pretty much going to become the CEO of the bank when his father retired. Marrying Brian no doubt would help with the finances of Salvatore Industries and Zach Salvatore had definitely planned it all out.

"You force me to choose," she whispered. "You know how important Mason is to me. But you want me to marry Brian Walker. Mason is the man I love. How dare you? How dare you try to control my life like this? I'm going to tell you that I choose Mason, not you. Are you listening? I choose Mason."

Zach's eyelids twitched. One withered hand moved slightly. Sarah smiled. A euphoric satisfaction twisted and melded with the old fury.

"So you can hear me," she said. "That's good. Because I want you to go to your grave knowing that I hate you, I despise you for everything you have done to me. Salvatore Industries was my inheritance and I'm going to claim what belongs to me. There is nothing you can do to stop me. I almost wish you were going to live long enough to see Salvatore Industries falls into my hand. Almost"

Zach's eyelids twitched again but he still didn't open his eyes. Sarah smiled, pleased.

"You are a dead man, or you will be very soon. They probably got a pool going out there at the nurses' station, betting on whether or not you will make it through the night."

Zach remained still in his bed.

"Good-bye, you pathetic bastard." Sarah started to turn away but paused, eyeing the IV lines. "You know, it is tempting to put a pillow over your face and finish you off right now. But I want you to have a little more time to think about how you failed to become a good father. I want you to suffer a little longer, Dad."

Sarah turned on her heel and walked swiftly out of the room. If she stayed for even another minute, she would give in to the rage and the urge to pull the plug on the old man.

Once out in the hall, she went quickly toward the elevators. Mason was waiting inside the car when she got out of the main entrance.

"Are you okay?" he whispered as he drove out of the parking lot.

She swallowed. "Yeah."

"What did the doctor say?"

"He is still alive but his heart is weak. Very weak."

He reached out and held her hand in his. "I'm sorry, darling."

"It doesn't matter," Sarah said out loud, trying to convince herself. "It doesn't matter. What matters now is Salvatore Industries."

"Damon Salvatore was lucky to escape that night," Mason grunted. "Our plan nearly worked."

"We have been working on this for months. I'm not going to let Damon ruin it."

"You are right. Salvatore Industries is your inheritance. You are going to claim what belongs to you."

x x x

Damon tossed the documents he had been reading in the last half an hour onto the coffee table with a sharp flick of his wrist that was eloquent of his black mood. His thoughts returned to Zach Salvatore.

He was moodily contemplating his plans when a movement on his left drew his attention and he looked toward the kitchen doorway, where Elena was standing with a mug in her hand and a hesitant smile on her face.

His expression softened as she made her way across the living room and put the steaming mug on the coffee table.

"What's this?" He stared at the mug on the table.

"Hot chocolate."

He raised his brows. "Hot chocolate?"

"The best prescription for a bad mood: hot chocolate for evening and lemonade for daytime. And cake. Chocolate cake."

He chuckled. "Where did you hear this from?"

"That's what my mum used to tell Jeremy and I when we were young."

"Where is my cake then?" he teased, reaching for the mug. The hot chocolate did smell nice.

Elena turned and headed for the kitchen. "There is a chocolate cake in the fridge. I bought it at the store."

Although that last information made the cake more, not less, desirable, Damon wasn't hungry. "If you didn't bake it, it isn't worth eating," he teased, and she scowled at his comments, then turned and started back to the kitchen. "Stay and talk to me for a while," he said.

Elena sat down on the sofa next to him. "Are you going to see Zach?"

"Should I?" "I think you should."

"Why?"

"Because he is your uncle. He is your family."

"He betrayed my father. He is not my family." Damon said, struggling to keep the bite from his voice.

Elena lifted her face to his. "I know he has hurt your family but he is still your family. Blood is thicker than water."

Damon took another swallow of his hot chocolate and set down the cup with angry force. "He wouldn't have betrayed my father if he treats him as family."

She sighed. "Greed is a terrible thing. It is a strange sin."

A fresh surge of fury rocketed through Damon at that. "I will never forget what he did to my father."

"He is very sick now, Damon." Laying her fingers against his cheek in an unconscious gesture of appeal, she whispered achingly, "Could you possibly find it in your heart to put the past behind you? He needs you."

"I am not his son," Damon pointed out impatiently.

Elena gave him one of her sweet smiles, but her reply was quietly emphatic. "But you are a Salvatore. You are the only one who can save Salvatore Industries."

Leaning forward, Damon braced his elbows on his knees, overwhelmed by a terrible sense of foreboding. With his shoulders hunched and his hands loosely linked, he gazed at the documents on the coffee table. He couldn't deny the fact that Zach had done a good job in running Salvatore Industries in the past seven-teen years.

"He is ill, Damon," she warned. "He can't take a lot of stress anymore."

"I will try to remember that," Damon replied unanswerably. His expression softened a little, and he changed the subject. "I'm sorry I have neglected you in the last few hours. I will make sure to not do that again. From this second on, I will give you plenty of…work… to do," he crooned, his lips turning up in a satisfied grin. Oh yes, he could think of many, many ways Elena could work on him.

Her eyes widened. "You will give me plenty of work to do?"

"uh, huh."

She made a face at him. "You are not my boss. I'm tired. I'm going home." she said as she covered her mouth and imitated an impressively fake yawn.

"You can't go home. You have to stay here all night."

"I'm really tired, Damon."

"You don't look tired, Elena. You look hungry, in need, wanting…" he countered as he pulled her tightly to him. "I can help with all of that."

She laughed. "How are you going to do that?"

"I'm going to pleasure you over and over again, make your body burn for hours, make you come so long, you will beg for it to stop. When you think you can't take any more, I'm going to start all over again, rekindle the burning embers inside you. You will cry my name all night long," he promised.

She laughed out loud. "Oh dear!"

"You have no idea…" he said fiercely, "how much I would do for you!" His mouth opened over hers in a rough, consuming kiss that stole her breath and robbed her of all ability to think. When he was finished, she was clinging to him. "Come to bed with me, darling."

In the bedroom, Damon reached for the top button on her blouse. He popped it open effortlessly. "You are beautiful," he whispered.

"So are you."

He smiled. With the side of his thumb, he gently stroked the swell of her breast and the lace of her black satin bra.

She caught her breath. Being with Damon made her felt alive.

His hands found the bra's front clasp, and as efficiently as he unbuttoned her blouse, he had released her from her bra, which hung limp from her shoulders. His groan was low and needful and desperately arousing. Elena wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and surrender.

"Damon, please."

He lifts his eyes to hers. He was breathing hard, and there was longing in the hard angles of his face. "Be patient, sweetie. Be patient."

Faster than Elena could react, his mouth covered hers. Claiming her, marking her. Her mind went blank, all thoughts dissolving, replaced only by pleasure and the need to be claimed by this man. To open her mouth and take and be taken.

Blindly, she groped for him, her fingers clutching at his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss lasted either seconds or an eternity, she was not sure. But when he released her, she sucked in air, craving oxygen because she was light-headed and weak.

"I love you, sweetie," he said huskily.

Their mouths clashed as Elena drew him in, and he was right there, tasting her, his low moan of pleasure making everything worthwhile.

He broke their kiss roughly, then closed his mouth on her neck. Elena gasped and arched her back, and as she did, his hands slide into her shirt, cupping her breasts, and then his mouth was there, suckling, drawing her in until her nipple was a tight pearl against his teeth. He tugged her closer, so that his thigh was wedged between her legs.

"Baby," he whispers, as he came up for air. His fingers quickly finish unbuttoning her shirt, and his hands ease down to her waist, leaving her skin hot and prickly in his wake. Elena was damp from the heat of her desire, and her body ached all over, craving his touch.

"So soft," he says, as he untucked her shirt and brushed his fingers lightly over her skin. His fingers skimmed around the waistband of her skirt, then slowly unzipped it. It fell a bit, hanging loose around her hips. "So damn beautiful."

He opened her blouse fully, so that the thin material hung limply on either side of her, and Elena felt the gentle flutter of the edges against her bare flesh. He brushed his mouth over her nipples, and she groaned, wanting to feel him suckle her, but he was only teasing, and with each soft, feather touch of a kiss upon her nipple. She felt her sex tighten and throbbed. She wanted him—She wanted him desperately.

"Damon, take me now," she begged.

"Did you know you glow?" he asked. He was trailing kisses down her cleavage, to her belly, to the waistline of her skirt. She felt his mouth tugged at her earlobe and one of his hands closed over her naked breast.

"Damon," she whispered, her voice a plea.

His mouth was at her ear, his voice so carnal, so full of lust, it made her clit throb. "We are going to blow the roof off pleasure. I'm going to make you beg for it. I'm going to claim you. I'm going to tease you. I'm going to torment you. And you are going to come for me like you have never come in your life."

She was vaguely aware that Damon picked her up in his arms. She turned her face against his chest, savouring the scent of his body and the strength of his arms. She spread the fingers of one hand across the expanse of his chest. Beneath the fabric of his shirt, he was hard and sleek. He carried her into his bedroom and tumbled her down onto the king-sized bed.

She kept her eyes closed as he unbuttoned her fly and unzipped her jeans. They fit loose, and his hand glided easily inside. "Mmm," he whispered, sliding two fingers inside her, the sensations so surprising and arousing she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

Her sex clenched around his fingers with excitement, and he moaned softly. "God, you are so responsive." He pulled his fingers out of her, and she whimpered from the loss. "Keep your eyes closed," he said, and then she felt his fingers on her lips. "Suck," he ordered, and she drew his finger inside. It was slick with the taste of her, and she shifted on the bed, squeezing her thighs together, sucking hard on him as she tried to reach satisfaction.

Slowly, he pulled his fingers free.

"Damon," she whispered.

"Mine," he whispered, and he was above her. His mouth closed over hers. The thick head of his penis was pressed against her, and he thrust inside. "Oh, baby," he said. His hand slipped down between their bodies, and she felt his thumb on her sensitive clit. Her body trembled, and she gasped as her muscles clenched, drawing him in even more. "Mine."

She moaned in pleasure.

"Always mine," he said, and she felt him withdraw just a little, then slammed back into her. She was lifting her hips to meet him, because she wanted him deeper now, deeper and harder. She wanted all of him.

Elena opened her eyes. Damon was above her, his face hard but his eyes showing nothing but pleasure. His mouth curved into a gentle smile, and then he kissed the corner of her mouth. He had slowed to a sweet, sensual rhythm that was all the more devastating because he was drawing it out, making it last. It could last forever as far as she was concerned.

And then she saw the tension building in his body, his muscles tightening, his body stiffening against her. He closed his eyes and she watched as he arched back, and then she felt the sweet pressure as he exploded inside her.

"Christ, Elena," he said as he collapsed against her. A brief moment later, he pulled me close to spoon against him, her back against his chest, her ass against his magnificent cock. His fingers stroke the outside of her thigh, and his lips grazed her shoulder. "I like sex with you," he said. "We may have to try more of that."

"More?"

"Have you ever heard of practise makes perfect?"

She laughed. "You are crazy, Damon."

He stroke her breasts and her hips. "You make me crazy."

For a few minutes, they just laid in bed, listening to their own breath sounds. Then Damon took her hand. "Let's have a shower. I want to make a phone call afterwards."

She was not about to argue with either of those, so she put on the robe and followed the stunning view of a naked Damon into the bathroom.

"You haven't answered my question," Elena asked as she followed him to the tub.

"What?"

"Are you going to see Zach?"

He frowned. "Can we change the subject?"

"No."

He shook his head. "You are stubborn, sweetie."

She folded her arms across her chest. "So are you, Mr Salvatore."

"I will think about it." He turned on the tap. "Too hot?" he asked.

She dipped her hand in. It was hot, but not unbearable. "Not even close."

"Really?" He looked intrigued, and turns down the cold water tap until it is only a trickle.

"Is that bubble bath?" she asked, pointing to a built-in dispenser.

"Go ahead."

She pressed the button, and a floral-scented gel squirted into the water right beneath the tap. Bubbles immediately formed. "Now that's a bath," she said, laughing. "Can I get in?"

"Of course."

Elena dropped the robe and climbed in. Already conveniently nude, Damon followed. He eased his back against the side and then settled her in between his legs. Elena felt his cock, soft now, against her rear. She shimmied a little, and it twitched.

"Tease," he murmured. He squirted some liquid soap into his hands and began to bathe her, caressing her arms with suds, then her breasts, then dipping down to stroke between her thighs. She closed her eyes and leaned back, feeling him get hard against her, feeling her body opening for him again.

His fingers teased her, gently making circles around her clit, making her squirm. "I'm not going to take you again," he whispered. "And I'm not going to make you come."

Elena shifted position, silently protesting.

"Later," he said. "Anticipation. It's a good thing."

"You are mean," she said.

"Baby, you aren't seen nothing." He gripped her at the waist and eased her around, so that she was kneeling on his lap in the tub. Considering he had just told her he was not going to take her, it was one hell of an interesting position since the length of his cock was hard between them. Elena slipped her hand down and stroke him. Soft, teasing. He felt like velvet on steel, and she wanted him inside me. Boldly, desperately, she wanted him. "You are not going to take me," she said softly. "But that doesn't mean I can't take you."

As she eased her hips up, Elena saw the look of heated surprise on his face.

"Oh, no," he warned.

"Oh, yes," she said positioning his cock beneath her, then lowering herself onto him, fast and hard. She clutched his shoulders, arched her head back, and rode him.

"Jesus, Elena." His voice was a desperate groan and he grabbed her hips, taking over the work of holding them together. "Oh, Christ, I'm going to come."

He exploded inside her then pulled her close as he breathed hard, his entire body going limp. "That was…unexpected," he said. "And pretty damned amazing," he added, making Elena feel hot and sexy and powerful.

He stroke her cheek. "You are amazing, sweetie."

Elena eased off him, and curled up beside him in the rapidly cooling water. He held her close, then shifted our position and stood, reaching to pull her up. Elena let him helped her out and dried her off with a thick towel. Then he held the robe for her and tied the sash around her waist. He dried himself off next and pulled on a simple cotton robe. "Come," he said, then led her to the bed.

He opened a trunk and pulled out two pillows and a light comforter, which he spread over the sheets. He held the sheet open in an obvious invitation, so Elena started to slide in.

"Take the robe off," he said, and she did, untying the sash and then letting the soft material fell off her shoulders to pool at her feet.

"Don't fall asleep on me," he said, after he had tucked her in. "I will be right back."

Elena rolled over and looked out at the windows. The windows were still open, and the cool night air was blowing in, but it was warm under the comforter. The sky was black, and the ambient light was minimal enough that she could actually see the stars twinkling above.

After a moment, she felt the mattress shift as Damon sat beside her. He had a tray with wine, cheese, and grapes. She grinned and eased herself up to a sitting position, the pillow propped against the cool metal of the bedframe.

"You certainly know how to impress a woman," she said as she took the wine glass.

He smiled at her. "I only want to impress you."

She took a sip of the wine. "I know you aren't going to like what I'm saying next."

Damon made a face. "Not again, sweetie."

She put the glass back on the tray. "Zach is lucky to survive a cardiac arrest in the community, you know."

"Hmm, hmm."

"A lot of people can't make it to the hospital," she added. "They are dead before help arrives."

He frowned. "What are you trying to say?"

"I know you can't forget what Zach did to your father but he is very sick now." Trying to lessen Damon's inevitable animosity, she added, "He could die at any time."

"When he does," Damon countered sarcastically, "I hope to God someone has the presence of mind to drive a wooden stake through his heart."

Elena muffled a horrified giggle at his quip and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I know what you will do."

He raised his brows. "You think so?"

"You won't let anything happen to Salvatore Industries."

"You know the evil, cold and ruthless Damon Salvatore is going to save Salvatore Industries?"

She chuckled. "I know the love of my life will do the right thing by his family."

"You are lucky that you are so adorable, because you can be so annoying at times!"

Elena giggled and curled up close to him and let her stroke her hair. "I'm annoying but you still like me."

"Yes, I like you. I like you very much, sweetie," he said fiercely. "I will give you anything you want. I will do anything for you."

"You are spoiling me," she whispered. "Whatever I need, you will give. I have never felt more taken care of."

"Because you are the love of my life, sweetie."

"And what about you, Damon?" she asked. "What do you need?"

Damon looked at her, and she saw a playful spark in his eye.

"You," he said, and then he closed his mouth over hers.

x x x

Damon was shocked by how much Zach had aged over the two days since he had seen him. His cheeks and eye sockets were deeply sunken, making his face look skeletal. He breathed through colourless, partially open lips even though he was getting supplemental oxygen through a cannula. Beneath the light blanket, his form looked pathetically unsubstantial.

He moved to the bedside and took his frail hand in his. At his touch, his eyes fluttered open.

"Hi," Damon whispered.

"Damon?" Zach croaked. "That you?"

"Yes, it's me."

"Sit."

Mindful of all the tubes and lines snaking from beneath the covers to various machines, Damon carefully lowered himself onto the edge of the bed.

"Where's Phil?" Zach asked.

"He is waiting outside. He thought you would like to speak to me alone."

"I know you hate me, Damon."

"I do."

"But I need you to do something for me."

"Don't worry about the business. I won't let anyone take over Salvatore Industries."

"You would do that?"

"I'm not doing it for you," Damon said firmly. "Salvatore Industries is a family business and I won't let anyone take over it."

"I know," Zach tried to smile. The smile turned into a painful, breathless, hacking cough. "Because you are a Salvatore. There is something I need to tell you."

"About what?"

"The past. It is a long story."

"I don't think it is a good idea to talk about the past anymore," Damon said. "Let's just let it rest in peace."

"We have never been very good at letting it rest in peace, have we?"

"No, I guess not."

"You don't understand," Zach said in a defeated voice. "Giuseppe always got the best of everything. He always got the best of everything. It was so damn unfair!"

"So you betrayed my father?"

"Your father went a little crazy after your mother died. I couldn't let him destroy Salvatore Industries. I had a duty to keep the business running."

"You did your duty, is that it? You betrayed my father and prospered. We lost everything!"

"I did what I had to do. I did it for the sake of the Salvatore family."

"You are pathetic, Zach." Damon met his eyes. "You did it because you wanted revenge."

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Zach growled. "Salvatore Industries has done well because of me."

"Yes, you did a good job keeping the business running. You resented your brother all of your life and that's why you wanted revenge."

"No, it wasn't like that."

"It was exactly like that," Damon said wearily. "My father might have lost everything but he did have something you have never found."

"What was that, damn you?"

"Happiness."


	17. Chapter 17

"You are going to marry him?" Jo dropped her white coat on the floor and swung sharply around. "Elena, what are you talking about? Why would you want to marry Damon?"

"Because I love him." Elena hung her white coat inside her locker. "And he loves me."

"You two have only been together for less than a month, don't you think it might be a bit premature to marry him?"

"Probably." Elena took out her bag from the locker. "But I don't think I can wait."

Jo stared at her. "Are you pregnant?"

"No."

"Then why can't you wait?"

"It is a little hard to explain, Jo." Even to herself. She knew she wanted Damon and he wanted her. She couldn't think of living without him. "He needs me."

Jo raised her brows. "He needs you? That is not a good excuse to marry him."

"I need him too. I need him in my life."

"Elena, perhaps you should meditate on this decision a little longer," Jo said gently. "He is different from the other men you have known."

"That is true." Totally different from any man she had ever known, she thought with a small smile.

"Elena?" Jo stared at her. "Is something wrong?"

"No. I'm just thinking about what you said."

Jo looked at her, confused.

"Damon is very different. But I have known him for a long time." She tried to reassure Jo that she was making the right decision. "He is a good man."

Jo sighed. "Please don't misunderstand. I know Damon is a good man. But I'm just not certain Damon is the right soul mate for you. Even though I like him, I still sense danger in his vicinity."

"He isn't going to hurt me."

The phone rang before Jo could continue. Relieved at the excuse to end the conversation, Elena pulled out her phone from her bag. She smiled when she saw the caller ID.

"Hey, you."

"Hey back." It was Damon.

"Where are you?" she asked.

"On my way to the airport."

"Where are you going?"

"Mystic Falls."

"Mystic Falls?"

"I have been appointed as the interim president of Salvatore Industries."

x x x

At 8:30 in the morning, Sarah left the parking lot and headed toward her own office. In the last few days, she had been busy taking phone calls from business acquaintances and family friends asking about her father's condition. She was so sick of it. Soon, nobody would remember about Zach Salvatore. She would take over Salvatore Industries eventually.

But there was one problem.

Damon Salvatore.

In her office, Sarah opened her desk drawer with an angry jerk. Damon could be a problem for her plan to take over Salvatore Industries.

Violet, her secretary walked into her room. "Miss Salvatore," she said, her voice tense. "Mr Carter's secretary just called. She said he wants to see you in his office immediately."

Unscheduled, abrupt summonses from Phil were extremely rare; Phil had worked for her father for more than twenty years and everyone in the company respected him. In a way, the staffs were scared of him because of his close relationship with Zach Salvatore. In the moment of silence that Sarah and her secretary looked at each other, they both assumed the reason might be related to the naming of an interim president.

That conclusion was borne out when Sarah reached the reception area outside Phil's office and saw that all the other executives had also been summoned.

"Miss Salvatore," Phil's secretary said, motioning her forward, "Mr Carter would like you to go right in." Sarah's heart soared as she walked toward his door—since she was the first to be advised of the board's choice, it was only logical that she was that choice. Like her father, and his father, and all the other Salvatores before them, Sarah Salvatore was going to be granted her birth right. More correctly, she was going to be allowed to prove her worthiness for the last few years.

Sarah knocked on the door and walked into his office.

Phil was standing at the windows, his hands clasped behind him. "Good morning," she said brightly to his back.

"Good morning, Sarah," he said, turning around, his voice and expression unusually friendly. He sat down behind his desk, watching her as she came forward. Although there was a sofa and coffee table at the far end of his office, he never sat there or offered anyone else a seat there. Instead, it was his habit to sit in the high-backed swivel chair behind his desk and to speak to people formally, across the expansive barrier of a large, antique baronial desk. Sarah wasn't certain whether he did that unconsciously, or whether it was with the deliberate intention of intimidating people. Either way, it was subtly unnerving to everyone, including Sarah at times, to have to traipse across the wide expanse of carpet to reach his desk, while he sat there, watching and waiting.

Now, Sarah noted, he waited with an unusual degree of patience, although he did not stand up. While good breeding and custom caused him to stand up whenever a woman arrived anyplace else, if that woman worked for Salvatore Industries at the management level or above, he remained seated, even when every other man arose. It was Sarah knew, his way of silently criticizing their presence in the executive ranks. And yet, when she was with him away from the company, he observed all the formalities. In the years, she had worked at the company, Sarah had learned to accept his two distinct and very different personas.

"You are looking well this morning," he said.

"Thank you," Sarah replied with surprised sincerity.

"I'm glad you are keeping well. You definitely need the energy to run this company." Without giving her a chance to reply, he inclined his head toward one of the chairs in front of his desk, and Sarah sat down, desperately trying to hide her nervousness.

"Your father has asked me to send for the entire executive staff on behalf of him because there is an announcement to make, but I wanted to speak with you first. The board of directors has decided upon an interim president." He paused, and Sarah leaned forward in her chair, tense with expectation. "They have chosen Damon Salvatore."

"What?" she said in a gasp, reeling from a combination of shock, anger, and disbelief.

"I said, they have chosen on Damon Salvatore. I'm not going to lie to you—they did it on your father's recommendation."

"Damon Salvatore," Sarah interrupted, coming to her feet and speaking in a stunned, furious voice, "has never contributed anything to the company. He has never worked here…"

"But he is a Salvatore," Phil countered, but Sarah wasn't intimidated and she wasn't finished. Outraged, not only because she had been cheated of the opportunity she should have been given, but at the sheer stupidity of the choice of successor, she braced her hands on his desk. "My father took over the company from Damon's father. And now you are telling me he is asking him to act as the interim president?

It hit her then, a realization that nearly sent her to her knees. "What kind of game my father is playing? Because Damon can't possibly run Salvatore Industries. He will destroy the company because of the feud between my father and his father…"

"I'm a Salvatore and I will never jeopardise this company."

Sarah's whole world seemed to come to a standstill as she heard the voice. Damon walked into the room and their eyes connected.

She couldn't breathe, as she realized the man who had turned her world upside down, was none other than her cousin. Her knees would no longer hold her up and she sank down into the chair, which was thankfully positioned behind her. They stared at one another as the seconds ticked by.

"Hello Sarah." His voice was cool and calm. "It has been a long time since I last saw you."

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"I'm the president of this company," was all he said, in his cold, controlled voice he had developed.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked him.

"Because I'm a Salvatore," he answered her with his cold eyes. She felt her anger rising again at his dismissive attitude. He really was a cold-hearted bastard. They sat, staring at one another. She refused to be the one to break the silence.

"Your father wants you to help Damon," Phil said. "I'm sure you are aware of the company's situation…"

"I'm not going to work with him!"

"Sarah, please listen…"

"If you are not happy with me, just fire me!" she flung back. "No, I won't give you that much satisfaction! I resign. Effective immediately. You will have a letter on your desk in fifteen minutes."

Before she could take the first step to leave, Damon grabbed her arm. "Sit down!" he ordered her. "Since you are determined to have it out at this inopportune moment, let's lay all our cards on the table."

"That will be a welcome change!" Sarah retorted, sitting down.

"Now," he said with biting sarcasm, "the truth is that you are not angry about Zach choosing me, you are angry because he didn't choose you."

"I'm angry about both those things."

"Either way, your father had sound reasons for not choosing you, Sarah," Phil said. "For one thing, you are not old enough or experienced enough to take over the reins of this company."

"Really?" Sarah shot back. "How did he arrive at that conclusion? Damon isn't that old either."

"It is different."

"It certainly is," she agreed, her voice shaking with anger. "My father is a bigot. And the real reason he won't give me a chance is because I am a female."

"You are wrong," Damon interrupted. "Your father knows you are very capable."

"Really?" she retorted sarcastically. "But why does he choose you to be the president? Why? He hates your gut!"

"I hate his gut too but I'm a Salvatore. I will do everything to keep the company."

Sarah stared at Damon while a lump of emotion swelled painfully in her throat. Fighting to keep her voice steady, she said, "I have loved this place since I was a little girl. In fact, I can tell you exactly when I decided to work here and be president someday. I was twelve years old, and my father brought me here to wait for him while he met with the board. And he told me," she continued raggedly, "that I could sit in his chair, while I waited for him. And I did. I sat there, touching his fountain pens and I buzzed his secretary on the intercom, and she came in and let me dictate a letter. It was a letter to him," she said. "The letter said"—she paused to draw another shattered breath, adamantly refusing to let Phil or Damon to see her cry— "Dear Father, I am going to study and work very hard, so that someday you will be so proud of me that you will let me work here like you and Grandfather. And if I do, will you let me sit in your chair again?"

"My father read the letter that day, and he said 'of course,'" Sarah finished, looking at the two men with proud disdain. "I kept my word. But my father never meant to keep his."

There was a brief silence.

"I know you are very capable, Sarah," Phil said eventually. "But Salvatore Industries is facing a battle. A tough one."

"And you think I can't win it?" she challenged. "But Damon can?"

There was another moment of brief silence. Her gaze shot to Damon's face. "He is buying up our stocks," she said, her voice ragged with anguish. "What are you planning to do? Take us over and then merge it or sell it?"

"That's ridiculous," Damon said. "I'm not going to sell Salvatore Industries."

"You are lying! You want a revenge! How can daddy not see your motive?"

"No, I'm not lying," Damon answered with sincerity. "I wouldn't deny that I bought the original blocks of stock with every intention of accumulating enough to gain either a seat on your board of directors or possibly a controlling interest."

Sarah turned to look at Phil. "He may be the one who spread the rumours about our financial crisis. How can he be in charge of Salvatore Industries?"

Damon's face tightened. "No, goddammit!"

"Damon isn't responsible for the rumours," Phil argued urgently. "Sarah, will you please calm down and listen to us?"

Shuddering with fury and anguish, she ignored Phil. "This discussion is pointless," she said bitterly, standing up. "My resignation still stands."

"Have you heard of S&M Trust?" Damon asked.

Sarah went still. "S&M Trust?"

Damon looked at her. "I'm sure you know who is the owner of S&M Trust."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," she said, backing away a step.

"S&M Trust has already acquired ten percent of our stock," Phil explained. "God knows how many additional shares S&M Trust has bought in other names. When our stock prices went up, S&M Trust obviously decided to spread the rumours of Salvatore Industries in crisis to drive them down, so they could buy them cheaper."

"I have meetings scheduled," Sarah interrupted, but her voice was taut with strain. "I can't be late for the meetings."

"Stay away from Mason Lockwood, Sarah!" Damon warned as she started for the door. "If you don't, you may end up looking like a co-conspirator in all this. By end of the week at the latest we will have enough proof put together to turn him over to the authorities…"

She turned, her faced. "What authorities?"

"The Securities and Exchange Commission, for starters! He has acquired more than five percent of our stock, so he is in violation of the SEC rules because he hasn't notified them he has done it! And if he has violated that law, then the police won't think he is as pure as the driven snow when it comes to the spread of rumours."

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You do, Sarah," Damon said, taking a few steps towards her. "Don't you forget you are also a Salvatore. Don't do something you will regret."

Sarah looked him right in the eye. "Go to hell!"

"Then I will accept your resignation," Damon said.

"Fine!"

"If you aren't here when I make the announcement to the others," Phil warned her as she opened the door "they will all suspect you ran out of here crying because you weren't the choice."

Sarah paused long enough to look at Damon and Phil. "I haven't lost yet. One day, I will be back because Salvatore Industries belongs to me." Without waiting for their reply, Sarah walked out of the room and left them standing there.


	18. Chapter 18

Elena was pacing in the foyer of the Salvatore boarding house when Damon finally returned at seven o'clock that night. She pulled open the door, went straight into his and said furiously, "Dammit, you should have told me! If you have to come back to Mystic Falls, I would come back together with you." She looked at him, tempted to shake him, and instantly regretted her outburst. He looked exhausted.

"I'm sorry," Damon said. "I didn't expect it myself."

"I shouldn't react like this You are a business man. You have dealt with things like that before," Elena said wryly, smiling to take the sting out of her greeting. He led her toward the living room because it was the cosiest part of the place.

"I was at Salvatore Industries most of the afternoon," he explained as he sat down on the leather sofa, "trying to see what I can do to help the company When I walked out of my office, Enzo called, and we were on the phone for almost an hour."

Damon trailed off, remembering Enzo's phone call. S&M Trust hadn't stopped buying their stock. There were more rumours now since Damon had stepped in as the interim president. The value of Salvatore Industries had dropped today. Clearly, S&M Trust had spread more rumours. Mason wanted the public to think that Damon would merge the company or sell it.

Pulling himself out of his reverie, he said, "I'm sorry if I seem preoccupied. This has been an incredible day, from beginning to end."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

" I'm worried you will be bored."

Elena looked up at him, struck anew by the aura of quiet command, of absolute competence that surrounded him. Casually dressed in dark trousers with his white shirt open at the throat and the cuffs folded back on his forearms, Damon Salvatore positively exuded indomitable power and strength. It was stamped on his jaw and etched into every one of his hard, chiselled features.

And yet, she thought with an unconscious smile, in bed she could make this bold, powerful man groan with need and turn to her in stormy desperation. She loved knowing that. She loved him.

"I would rather try to forget about the day."

She looked thoughtful. "Really? Would you rather try to forget about the day?"

"I feel guilty about burdening you," Damon said.

"I may know nothing about business but I'm a good listener." She smiled at him. "I don't mind you burdening me. In fact, I'm scared you would say I'm burdening you."

His lips quirked, and there was a decidedly sensual note in his eyes. "Having you burden me again is a fantasy that kept me awake until dawn."

She rolled her eyes. "Come on, Damon."

He chuckled. "You really want to hear it? I would rather do something more interesting with you."

"We can do something interesting afterwards," she said, curling her legs beneath her and twisting toward him. "Let's hear about your day."

With a conscious effort, Damon pulled himself from the sensual spell of her fantasy. "Actually, it is easy to sum up," he said, inhaling her scent. "Last but not least, our stock closed down three points this afternoon."

"It will come back up eventually," Elena said. "You are a good businessman."

Nodding, he continued. "There are rumours everywhere. On the papers, on the internet. Public is worried about having me as the interim president."

"I guess everyone is scared of a change but you will prove to the public that you are capable of running Salvatore Industries."

With a weak attempt at humour, he added, "I guess my reputation is kind of scary." Averting his gaze from Elena's quiet scrutiny, he stared out the windows.

"What else is bothering you?"

It was obvious from her insistent tone that Elena knew there was something else and that she fully intended to hear about it. "I'm worried about Sarah."

"Why?"

"Wes found out that S&M Trust is buying up the stock of Salvatore Industries lately. And the owner of S&M Trust is Mason Lockwood."

"What has it to do with Sarah?" she asked, confused.

"They dated in the past." He paused. "They are still seeing each other."

"I thought Sarah is engaged…"

"Zach wants Sarah to marry Brian Walker because he believes his background could help the company."

"Oh."

"Sarah has tried very hard to prove herself in the past few years. But obviously, Zach doesn't seem to appreciate what his daughter has done."

"It is sad, isn't it? As a daughter, you try so hard to impress your father. You want him to recognise your hard work. But you get nothing in the end."

"I don't think Sarah will give up." He sighed. "But I'm not going to let S&M Trust takes over the company."

"I understand. You are trying your best to keep the family business…" A loud tone from her phone made Elena stop talking and reach for the purse she had put down beside the sofa. She removed the phone, looked at the message on it, and with a silent, frustrated moan she let her head fall back against the sofa, her eyes closed. "This is all I needed to make today perfect."

"What is wrong?"

"It is Caroline," she sighed, reluctantly looking at Damon. "She has probably heard that I'm back in Mystic Falls."

"Just ignore her."

"I have," she said wryly. "She has left more than a dozen of messages."

The warmth had left his eyes and his jaw was rigid. "Your friend is annoying."

Elena hit his shoulder gently. "Don't say that. We have been friends since first grade. It means a lot to me."

Damon made a face. "She is still annoying."

"She just wants to know what is going on between us."

He raised his brows. "What is going on between us? We are together. We are in love. Period. What else does she want to know?"

There was a brief silence.

"I told Jo about us getting married," she said finally.

He looked at her but said nothing.

"She thinks I'm a bit premature to marry you," she added. "She is right that we haven't been in a relationship long enough."

She saw Damon's jaw tightened. "I'm sorry," she said bitterly. "I suppose you are angry because I didn't come right out and tell her more about us."

He lifted his hand and wearily rubbed the tense muscles at the base of his neck. "I'm not angry, Elena," he said in a flat, emotionless voice. "I'm trying to convince myself you won't back down on our relationship, that you won't start doubting me and yourself."

"What are you talking about?" she said, touching his hand.

"Jo is right. We have been together for less than a month," he added on a ragged sigh. "maybe it is premature of you to marry me."

"No."

"Maybe Jo is not the only one who will think like this. Jenna, Logan and even Jeremy may think it is premature of you to marry me."

"No," she said softly. "They won't doubt my decision. They will be happy for me."

He sighed. "I'm not so sure."

"They are my family. They will accept you for my sake and trust me, they will be happy for me. For us."

Damon looked into her beautiful almond-coloured eyes and put his arms around her. "I like your optimism," he whispered as his mouth came down on hers for a long, drugging kiss. "You are always so optimistic," he murmured thickly, kissing her ear as she melted against him. "Don't ever change, sweetie."

"And you don't have to change as well," she said huskily. "I like you now. Just the way you are."

"I love you, sweetie," he said, reaching for the top button on her blouse. He popped it open effortlessly. "I love you so much." Pop, another button. "You are beautiful," he whispered

With the side of his thumb, he gently stroke the swell of her breast and the lace of her white satin bra.

Her breath caught in her throat. Damon could make her body go crazy.

His hands found the bra's front clasp, and as efficiently as he unbuttoned her blouse, he had released her from her bra, which hung limp from her shoulders. His groan was low and needful and desperately arousing. Elena wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and surrender.

"Damon."

His mouth covered hers. Claiming her, marking her. Making her his. Her mind went blank, all thoughts dissolving, replaced only by pleasure and the need to be claimed by this man. To open her mouth and take and be taken.

Blindly, Elena groped for him, her fingers clutching at his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss lasted either seconds or an eternity, she was not sure. But when he released her, she sucked in air, craving oxygen because she was light-headed and weak.

Their mouths clashed as she drew him in, and he was right there, tasting her, his low moan of pleasure making everything worthwhile.

Damon broker their kiss roughly, then closed his mouth on her neck. She gasped and arched back, and as she did, his hands slid into her shirt, cupping her breasts, and then his mouth was there, suckling, drawing her in until her nipple was a tight pearl against his teeth.

"Baby," he whispered, as he came up for air. His fingers quickly finished unbuttoning her shirt, and his hands eased down to her waist, leaving her skin hot and prickly in his wake. Elena was damp from the heat of her desire, and her body ached all over, craving his touch.

"So soft," he said, as he untucked her shirt and brushed his fingers lightly over her skin. His fingers skimmed around the waistband of her skirt, then slowly unzipped it. It fell a bit, hanging loose around her hips. "So damn beautiful."

He opened her blouse fully, so that the thin material hung limply on either side of her, and Elena felt the gentle flutter of the edges against her bare flesh. He brushed his mouth over her nipples, and she groaned, wanting to feel him suckle her but he was only teasing, and with each soft, feather touch of a kiss upon her nipple, she felt her sex tightened and throbbed.

"Did you know you glow?" Damon asked. He was trailing kisses down her cleavage, to her belly, to the waistline of her skirt.

"Really?" she asked huskily. "Do you like what you see then?"

"I do. Very much."

His hand snaked around her waist, and he pulled her tighter against him.

"Damon," she whispered, her voice a plea.

His mouth was at her ear, his voice so carnal, so full of lust, it made her clit throb. "I like it very much. We are going to blow the roof off pleasure. I'm going to make you beg for it. I'm going to claim you. I'm going to tease you. I'm going to torment you. And you're going to come for me like you've never come in your life."

Elena could barely breathe as she was so turned on by the power of his words. And as he was talking, his hand had been snaking down under the waistband of her skirt, over her panties to cup her swollen, dripping cunt.

"You are so wet," he whispered. "Oh, baby, you are soaking."

She made some sort of rough noise in her throat. Maybe a response, she was not sure. She was shifting her weight shamelessly, wanting to feel his fingers against her swollen clit.

He roughly yanked her panties to the side, and in what felt like one movement, he slid two fingers into her. "Tell me you like that." His voice was rough, demanding.

"Yes. God, yes." Her vagina spasm around him as his fingers moved in and out, teasing her clit, and sending her higher and higher until she was close, so close, so close.

Elena cried out as he pinched her nipple, and the delicious pain triggered her release. She came in violent, shuddering waves, his fingers still inside her, her body trying to draw him in, to keep him there, to hold on to the moment.

"Elena," he whispered, gently pulling out of her. She was a limp rag—and his mouth closed over the tender nipple. He suckled it, pinching and pulling at the other one, the sensation of near-pain keeping her sensitive sex throbbing. Slowly, he kissed his way down her cleavage, her belly.

She was jelly. She was lost in a haze. She was floating.

His mouth covered hers again and she sighed into his kiss, tasting her own essence on his mouth. Dear God, she had never experienced an orgasm so strong, so intense. She returned the kiss, trying to make Damon understand the significance of what had just happened, of what she had experienced, by pouring every ounce of passion she felt into the embrace.

"That was incredible," she breathed as she pulled her mouth away.

Damon picked her up in his arms, carried her into his bedroom and tumbled her down onto the bed. He was leaning over her, one hand stroking her nipple as the other played with her clit. "You make me so hard," he said.

She heard the rip of a condom packet, and then, a moment later, the pressure of his cock against her. The pressure of his thrusts moved them across the bed, and she reached out, grabbing hold of the iron bedframe to hold herself in position, meeting him thrust for thrust, losing herself in the sensation and the sound of their bodies meeting.

She felt when he got close, and as he did, his hand returned to her clit, stroking and teasing and bringing her closer and closer. "Come with me," he demanded. "I'm coming, baby, I want you to come with me, too." He exploded inside her, and that's all it takes to bring her over the edge with him, the universe showering stars down on the two of them.

Spent, they collapsed together on the bed, a tangle of arms and legs.

When her body was functioning again, Elena propped herself up on an elbow and brushed his cheek. He looked rumpled and sexy, and she got a nice little knot of satisfaction in her belly.

Damon looked at her and smiled.

She grinned flirtatiously. "That was nice," she said. "Can we do it again?"

x x x

Mason glanced at the ringing cell phone of Sarah in his living room, and then at her. She was standing at the window, looking pale and withdrawn. "That is probably Phil again."

"I'm not answering his calls," Sarah replied with a shrug. She had left the office at five o'clock, and by then she had already refused to take two calls from Phil Carter and several more from reporters who were eager to ask how she felt about being passed over for the presidency today. Her father had called and left a message but she didn't bother to return his call.

Her father's voice was crackled with fury when she listened to the message. "Dammit, Sarah. Answer the phone! I want to talk to you."

She was not going to talk to him. She was sick of being the obedient girl Zach had expected her to be. What did she get in the end? Nothing! Absolutely nothing.

Sliding his arm around her waist from behind, Mason drew her against him. "I know you don't want to talk to him," he said with sympathetic logic, "but he has already called four times in the past hour. Why not talk to him and get it over with?"

Mason had insisted on seeing Sarah to lend her moral support, and she was very grateful for having him around. "I don't want to talk to anyone right now, especially him."

"I know," he said with a sigh, but he remained where he was, offering silent sympathy while Sarah stared listlessly out the window into the darkness. "Come over to the sofa," he whispered, his lips brushing her temple. "I will fix you a drink."

She shook her head, declining the drink, but she walked over to the sofa and sat in the circle of his arms. "What am I supposed to do if you are not here?"

"Don't be silly. I will always be with you."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Closing her eyes, Sarah wondered briefly how anyone was supposed to deal with so many complications, setbacks, and disappointments. "I'm so tired."

"Why don't we fly to New York and spend a few days there?" he asked gently.

She shook her head. "No. I can't leave. I'm not leaving. Damon Salvatore is not the interim president of Salvatore Industries. I can't leave Mystic Falls!"

"I understand," he said, cupping her cheek in his palm. "I have always understood why you insisted on working at Salvatore Industries and you have put in a lot of hard work."

"We haven't lost the battle, Mason."

He kissed her forehead. "No, we haven't lost the battle. S&M Trust will continue to buy the stocks. In fact, Damon stepping up as the interim president has helped us. The value of the stocks has dropped today."

"We need to drive the value of Salvatore Industries' stock down to half its value."

Mason looked thoughtful. "How are we going to do that? Damon Salvatore has his reputation in the business and eventually the value the stock will go up again."

"We are going to hang him, and then we are going to bury him."


	19. Chapter 19

Wrapped in a bathrobe, Elena sat in Damon's living room, the television's remote control in her hand. Sunday morning cartoons were on most of the local channels, and she passed them by with an impatient press of the button. She couldn't concentrate on it or anything else. On the sofa beside her, where she had flung it down a minute ago, was the Sunday Mystic Falls Daily morning newspaper with its sensational front-page story about Damon taking over Salvatore Industries. The paper had mentioned about how ruthless Damon had been in the past ten years when he had taken over a company.

Beneath that, the caption read:

END OF THE ERA FOR SALVATORE INDUSTRIES.

"Unbelievable!" she gritted out when she saw the paper first thing in the morning. She looked at her watch and then at her telephone, willing it to ring. Damon had received a call from Phil early this morning and he had left the house. By now, he would surely be finished with his meeting with Phil, but he hadn't called her, and she knew instinctively the news wasn't good.

For the last two days, Elena stayed with Damon but she hardly saw him when he wasn't on the telephone or meeting with people. Damon was a man with a mission now; he was mobilizing his own forces and he was awe-inspiring to see in action. She watched him sitting behind his desk in the library, his fingers steeped in front of him, as he listened to advice from the executives from Salvatore Industries, discarded most of it, and issued orders of his own. He worked out strategies with attorneys from New York, made plans with Enzo and simultaneously ran his company from his home. When she least expected it, he would suddenly materialize at her side, pull her into his arms for a long kiss, and then go back to the next meeting, the next phone call. Elena loved to watch him, and she hadn't been entirely idle either. She had made some phone calls of her own and spent the rest of her time talking to Jenna, Logan and Jeremy. She even called Caroline to arrange for a lunch meeting.

It was a long dreadful day.

"How did it go?" Elena asked when Damon returned alone, late in the afternoon.

He pulled her into his arms. "It was okay," he said with a fleeting smile. "The stock did drop but I think once we announce the new project, the public will have confidence in the company again."

"New project?"

"Salvatore Industries has bought a piece of land here in Mystic Falls and we will build more houses."

"I thought Intercorp has bought the land." She reached up and straightened the knot of the tie she'd given him. "So, Intercorp has decided to sell the land to Salvatore Industries?"

"I have to do something for Salvatore Industries." Steel threaded his voice as he added, "I do hate Zach's gut but this is a family business. I have to keep it." Making an effort to soften his voice, he said, "I know my father will do the same as well if he is still alive."

"The media is horrible," she said softly. "They have painted you as a monster trying to swallow up Salvatore Industries."

He shrugged casually. "I did swallow up a lot of companies, sweetie. That's what Intercorp does. We buy a company and then either merge it or sell it."

"It makes you sound like a mobster," she said with a shudder.

That made him grin. "I have been treated like a mobster. And that," he whispered, nipping her ear, "is what happens in the real world. If you aren't strong and powerful enough, someone will eat you alive."

"Nobody will dare to eat you alive," she chided with a giggle as he continued to tease her ear.

"I know," he said with an unabashed grin. "You are the one who looks good enough to eat."

In his place, Elena would have been frantic at the possibility of not being able to run a company properly. But Damon had such strength of purpose that it empowered him. He generated his own force and it swept people along with it.

She smoothed her fingers over his hard jaw. "Do you really _know_ what is going to happen tomorrow?"

"No. I only know what can happen, and what I want to happen."

"What do you want to happen?"

He turned her face up for a kiss and said with a sombre smile, "What I want to happen is this: I want to see your face on the pillow beside mine when I go to sleep and when I wake up. And more than anything else in the world right now, I want to give you everything you want."

"You?" she suggested and watched his blue eyes darken with tenderness.

"That, too," he whispered.

The phone rang and Elena reluctantly pulled out of his arms and reached out to answer it. Still in a light-hearted mood, she said, "You are the expert on human nature, tonight. Use your powers and tell me who this is."

Damon threw out the first name that came to mind. "Caroline," he guessed.

Elena covered the mouthpiece with her hand. "You are right."

"I'm going to fix myself a drink," he mumbled as he walked towards the bar.

"What in the world is going on?" Caroline asked without preamble.

"Calm down, please," Elena began, but there was no calming Caroline. "I take a few days off to spend time with Damon here in Mystic Falls. He has just stepped up as the president…"

"I'm not talking about Damon taking over Salvatore Industries."

"Oh."

"You haven't heard, have you?"

Alarm traced a finger up Elena's spine. "What's wrong?"

"Pete Donavan is threatening to bring Damon to jail."

"Oh, my God!" She looked at Damon with glazed panic in her eyes. "Oh, my God!" she whispered again.

Damon narrowed his eyes. "What's going on?"

Elena sank down in the sofa, shaking her head to clear it, knowing she had to do something—anything. For lack of any other ideas, she said slowly, "What does Pete want? Why is he doing this?"

"Pete wants Damon to go to jail because he slept with Vicky and got her pregnant! Vicky was only sixteen at that time!" Caroline burst out. "Was it true?"

"Now, listen to me," Elena pleaded with her aunt in a shaky, calming voice. "Damon didn't sleep with Vicky."

"But Pete said he saw the two of them…"

"I don't think we should discuss this over the phone."

"Stop stalling, dammit!" Caroline raged. "Pete Donovan is serious. He is talking to my mum…"

"What!?" she gasped. "He is talking to the sheriff? Why?"

Damon reached over and took the phone from Elena. "Caroline, this is Damon Salvatore."

"Oh, hi."

"I will take care of Pete Donovan."

Damon ended that call without bothering to say good-bye. When he hung up, Elena gazed at him, a little dazed by his methods and speed. "How," she asked on a choked laugh, "do you intend to take care of Pete?"

"Leave that to me."

"But…"

He looked at her. "Do you trust me?"

There was a brief silence before Elena answered. "Yes."

"Then the problem will be solved."

Before Elena opened her mouth to say something, Damon hauled her into his arms with his hands on her shoulders. His mouth claimed hers in a kiss that was both rough and tender, his arms drawing her tightly against him. And then he gentled the kiss, brushing his parted lips on hers in a light, exquisite touch that was even harder to resist than the other one. He trailed his lips to her ear and nipped the lobe, his whisper sending shivers down her spine. "Right now, I only want to kiss you. I know you want to kiss me back. I can feel it."

To her horror, his words doused her protest and gave her simultaneous impulses to giggle and to do exactly what he suggested.

"If I die choking on my dinner tonight," he cajoled softly, his mouth sliding over her cheek toward her lips again, "think how guilty you will feel if you don't."

Pushed another step toward laughter, Elena opened her mouth to say something duly flippant or, better yet, sarcastic, and the instant she did, his mouth captured hers. His hand clamped the back of her head, holding her mouth to his while his other arm angled down across her back, holding her hips tightly to his. And Elena was lost. Locked to him from toe to head, possessed by his hands and mouth and tongue, she went down to ignominious defeat. Against his chest, her fists flattened, her hands sliding up his shirt inside his coat, her fingers splaying wide of their own accord, spreading against the muscled warmth of his chest. His tongue stroked intimately against hers, his mouth inexorably forcing hers to open wider, and suddenly Elena was welcoming the invasion of his tongue, helplessly kissing him back. As soon as she did, his arm tightened, his mouth starting to move with fierce, devouring hunger over hers, and Elena felt his own desire beginning to pour through her veins.

He continued to love her mouth with his tongue, while his hands worked their own magic on her needy body. She wanted more and wiggled as close as she could possibly get to him. She cursed the clothes that kept them separated.

His hands continued to caress her stomach, causing her body to shake with need. "Tell me you want me," he demanded of her.

His hands were skimming higher and she could feel the brush of them on the underside of her breasts, which were swollen and aching to feel his masculine hands grip them. Her nipples were straining against her bra and the lace was irritating her sensitive skin. She had never wanted her clothing off so badly. She had never wanted a man to touch her more than she wanted her next breath of oxygen.

"Yes," she finally managed to choke out. "I want you, Damon."

Damon growled low in his throat and bit the side of her neck. She felt a slight sting and then unbelievable pleasure as he ran his tongue over the spot and then sucked it into his mouth.

His hands finally pushed over the mounds of her breasts and she gasped as his thumbs rubbed over her tightened nipples. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him, as his hands roamed all over her body. She didn't know how or when it happened but suddenly she felt cold air on her naked breasts a few seconds before she felt his mouth break from hers, only to take her swollen bud into his mouth.

She threw her head back as he lavished her aching breasts. He took his time on one, before switching to the other, to give it equal attention. She could feel the heat pooling in her core and wanted nothing more than for him to fill the void inside her.

His hands were rubbing along her thighs and she wanted more.

"Damon…"

Damon pulled her dress up and groaned aloud at the wisp of fabric covering her core. His hand brushed over the fabric and he lost all sense of control when he felt the wetness soaking the thin material. She was the most responsive woman he had ever been with and there was nothing fake about her. She was all woman and she was writhing in pleasure beneath his touch. It was quickly sending him over the edge. He grabbed the side of her thong and it easily ripped in his hand and left her uncovered for his pleasure.

He grabbed her in his arms and laid her down on the sofa. He buried his head in the juncture between her thighs and as her sweet scent hit him, he felt his body pulse in painful desire. She was so beautiful and the groans coming from her were making him realize he wasn't going to last long. He wanted to draw it out but there would be next time for that.

Elena jerked in pleasure at the first swipe of his tongue against her aroused flesh.. He swiped his tongue along her moist folds and took the sensitized bud into his mouth gently sucking it. That was all it took to send her flying over a cliff, which seemed to have no bottom. Her body jerked in a powerful orgasm as wave after wave of ecstasy washed through her. She was shaking as the pleasure rushed through her in what seemed like an endless storm.

She felt his finger dip inside of her heat. His tongue travelled the length of her body upwards, until his lips fastened onto her still sensitive nipples once again. She felt a stirring in her stomach, as he took the still hardened peaks into his mouth and sucked them deep inside. When he gently bit down on her, her back arched off the sofa and she felt the stirrings of pleasure start to rise again.

His fingers were still inside her, slowly pumping in and out of her heated folds and she once again started to wiggle beneath his administering. He moved his body upwards and suddenly his lips were fastened onto hers.

He thrust his tongue inside of her mouth, giving as much as he took. He moved his hand from her body and she cried out at the empty feeling. "Please," she cried out. "Please, Damon."

She felt the weight of his body, as he settled over her thighs. He was gloriously naked above her and she greedily rubbed her hands along the muscled length of his back and arms. He was kissing her so deeply she could barely breathe but she didn't care. She didn't need oxygen. She didn't need anything but the feeling he was bringing her. She suddenly felt pressure as he pushed up against her opening and a new wave of heat hit her, moistening her body for his entrance.

He lifted his lips from hers and bit gently down on her neck again, as he thrust inside her in one long motion. Her body took him in and as she adjusted around him, the pleasure was almost too much to bear. She heard him swear, as he tried to gain some control of himself. She wrapped her legs around his back and jerked her hips upwards and he lost all sense of control. With her thrust upwards, he was sent over the edge and there was no going back.

Elena could feel the sheen of sweat from both their bodies, allowing them to easily rub against each other. As he grabbed her hips and started thrusting in and out of her, faster and faster, she was quickly building up to a crashing crescendo. Her nipples were rubbing up against his hard chest and every time he sunk deep inside of her, her swollen nub would brush against his pelvic bone. Between all the sensations he was giving her, she could feel the orgasm getting ready to take her away. She held onto him and didn't even think about fighting it.

He was pushing into her harder and harder and suddenly she couldn't take any more and her body tensed, as the most earth-shattering explosion washed through her. She shook as wave after wave of electricity shot through her body. Her legs were in a death grip around his back and her nails dug into his shoulders. The release washed through her, over and over again and she couldn't prevent the cry that rang from her scorched throat.

Damon was barely hanging on to his sanity as he pushed deep inside of her and when she started gripping him, he was completely lost. He let his own cry of pleasure ring out as he emptied himself deep inside of her. She was the most passionate woman he had ever taken and he didn't want it to end but how could he not want to feel total completion? He only felt complete when he was with Elena. She continued to grip him in convulsions, draining him of every last ounce of himself. He fell against her in satisfaction, then shifted them to their sides.

He couldn't open his eyes as he laid there with her in his arms. He stroked her back and neither of them said anything for a while.

"I love you, sweetie," he said finally.

Elena gave him a distracted smile, and it was enough to alert him that something else was on her mind.

Taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he turned her face toward his. "What's wrong?" he said quietly.

She lifted her eyes to his. "I'm worried about Pete," she admitted.

His jaw hardened at the mention of Pete Donovan. "Are you worried about what he is going to do to me or you are worried about what I will do to him?"

"You won't do anything to Pete, will you?" she asked, her gaze searching him.

"I won't kill him, if this is what you are trying to ask," he whispered as his mouth came down on hers for a long, deep kiss. "But," he murmured, his lips feather-light against her cheek, "sometimes I change my mind…"

"You won't hurt Pete."

"But I'm ruthless and cold. I will do anything to get what I want."

"No, you are not. You have a good heart."

"Yeah. I have a good heart."

Soothed but not completely satisfied, Elena put her fingers over his lips to stop him from distracting her with another kiss. "Will you tell me what are you intending to do?"

He lifted his head, frowning at the doubt in her voice. "I thought you said you trust me."

"I do."

"Then let me take care of everything."

She raised her brows but said nothing.

"I promise nobody will get hurt, okay?"

Elena's expression cleared, and she drew his head down to hers, her fingers sliding caressingly over his cheek. "May I have that kiss now?" she whispered, smiling.


	20. Chapter 20

Vicki Donovan knocked on the front door of her father's house in Mystic Falls. Her father opened the door. "Vicky!" he exclaimed. "Honey, what are you doing here?"

She looked around him for Matt and saw him walking into the room, buttoning the cuffs of his shirt. He stopped cold, his pleasure in her visit shaking her resolve a little. "Is Mum here?" she asked, looking about the spacious house.

"I'm here, darling," Kelly said as she floated downstairs in one of the silky, clingy peignoirs she always preferred. "The more important question is, why are you here?"

Vicky's eyes fell to Sarah Salvatore who was sitting on the sofa. "What is she doing here?" she asked. "What do you want from my Dad?"

Sarah put on her brilliant smile as she stood up. "Hello, Vicky. I'm here to help your father."

"Help my father?" Vicky snorted. "We don't need your help. Please leave!"

Matt reached over to Vicky. "Listen Vicky, Sarah is helping us to get justice for you…"

"What?" Vicky exclaimed. "What are you talking about? Justice for me?"

Vicky had the horrible feeling that of the all the people in the room, Kelly was already arriving at the correct conclusion. Barbara was sure of it when her mother began talking to her in a way that was calculated to make her sound feebleminded, even now, when she had finally put her life together and built a good marriage with a husband who loved her.

"Why aren't you at your beautiful, peaceful place in Richmond?" Kelly said, rushing over to pour her a cup of tea. "You should be in Richmond. Where's Jason?"

Vicky sat on the sofa and realized she had finally arrived at the moment she had dreaded since she was sixteen years old. Her mother was going to despise her and make her sound like a liar. Matt and her father were going to lose faith in her, no one was going to love her, she would be abandoned…With an angry shake of her head, Vicky silenced that panicky inner voice that had chanted that same chant until she was nearly crazy with it.

"I'm here to have some tea," Vicky said with a calm smile as she took the cup and saucer and patted the seat on the sofa beside her. Matt sat down there. Her father and mother sat down in chairs facing them.

Sarah looked at Vicky and then back to Pete. "If Vicky is happy to turn up to the press conference, things will look better…"

Pete shook his head. "No. I'm not subjecting my daughter to the press."

"She was the victim. She has the right to voice out…"

"Hold on a minute," Vicky interrupted. "I'm not a victim. You must have been mistaken, Sarah."

Everyone gasped and Kelly shot to her feet. "You must be tired. Let's get you back to your room."

"I'm not tired, Mum," Vicky said. "You want to know why I'm here? I'm here to right a wrong that I helped Mother commit fifteen years ago."

Pete's eyes widened. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Kelly's face paled.

Vicky looked at her father. "Daddy," she said firmly. "Damon Salvatore never, ever laid a finger on me. Mother was the one who begged me to tell a lie. She was the one who seduced Damon."

"Can you believe this!" Kelly shrieked. "You are completely insane!"

Her father wearily rubbed his forehead. "Vicky, don't do this to yourself. It happened, honey. That bastard got you pregnant."

Perhaps it was Vicky's calm that chipped away at her father's and brother's disbelief. Perhaps it was her sad smile. "The father of that baby was Marko White, Daddy. We were drunk and we had sex at the back of your car" She transferred her gaze to her mother's white face. "I had never laid my eyes on Damon Salvatore. But you have always wanted him in your bed the moment he walked into the Grill."

x x x

Elena's brief fantasy that Matt would apologize and offer to have the rumours clarified was not only beyond his ability to fulfil, it was beyond his consideration. Instead, the two men looked at each other like sworn enemies. Damon kept his hands in his pockets and merely lifted his brows in aloof inquiry.

Matt was equally distant. "I won't stay long," he said. "I have come to apologize to both of you for everything I said and did that was the result of what I believed happened to Vicky."

"It doesn't sound like a sincere apology to me," Damon mocked.

"We might have been mistaken about what happened to Vicky," he said with biting scorn. "But your reputation with women is well-know. Elena is a good friend of mine. You better treat her well."

"That does sound like a threat to me, doesn't it?" Damon inquired in a deliberately insulting drawl.

Elena saw Matt's hands clench into fists, and so did Damon and yet Damon goaded him harder. "I don't care what do people think about me. But I don't like my girl being insulted, especially by her good friend. Our relationship has nothing to do with you people here in Mystic Falls."

"You are a player, Salvatore. You take what you want. You don't care what people think of you because you are a selfish bastard!" Matt retorted in a deadly voice.

"Yes," Damon scoffed. "I'm a selfish bastard. But you are an idiot as well. Otherwise you won't believe what your Mum said all these years!"

"Stop it!" Elena cried, forgetting that Matt was no longer the same carefree youth who had always been her friend. "Damon is innocent of everything you believe he has done. Caroline and I saw Vicky with Marko making out inside the car."

There was a tense silence before Matt opened his mouth again. "Vicky has explained everything to us. There won't be any press conference or charges on you, Salvatore."

"I have never laid my hands on your sister," Damon said, sweeping Matt with a contemptuous glance. "Sarah is trying to use your family against me."

Matt went still. "Are you saying that Sarah Salvatore has a motive when she offers to help us?"

Damon folded his arms over his chest. "I'm sure you are aware that I'm being elected as the new president of Salvatore Industries."

Matt nodded. "Yes, I have heard."

"Sarah wants to destroy Damon's reputation," Elena explained. "She wants Salvatore Industries. She is willing to do anything to destroy Damon, including murder."

"What? Murder?" Matt gaped at her. "You are kidding, aren't you?"

"No, she isn't," Damon said firmly. "Sarah is willing to do anything to get her hands on Salvatore Industries. Your father and you are being manipulated."

Matt looked extremely angry. "Dammit," he cursed. "We shouldn't have believed her."

"It is over now," Elena said. "At least nobody is hurt in the process."

Damon walked to her and slipped his arms around her, linking his hands at the small of her back while a lazy grin worked its way across his rugged features. "Didn't I promise you that nobody would get hurt?"

She smiled back at him. "Yes, you did."

Damon turned back to look at Matt. "By the way, Elena and I would like to go to the Grill for dinner."

"What did you say?" Elena asked, surprised.

"I said we will go to the Grill for dinner. I miss the grilled spare ribs," he said with a grin. "What do you say, Donovan? You won't kick us out, will you?"

Matt blinked. "Of course not. You two are welcomed at the Grill. Any time. For both of you, I will always have a table ready and something good to eat."


	21. Chapter 21

Elena glanced at her watch. She was late. She had promised to meet Caroline at the Grill but it had been a busy at the ER in Mystic Falls Hospital. Since she was having a long break in Mystic Falls, she had decided to take up a locum job at the ER. Damon would be spending a lot of time here at Mystic Falls because of Salvatore Industries. Elena realised two-city living arrangement wasn't going to work and she did think about getting a permanent job here at Mystic Falls Hospital. Mystic Falls was her hometown and she would be glad to spend the rest of her life here with Damon. But she hadn't discussed with him yet. He had been so busy with Salvatore Industries in the last few days that she had hardly seen him until late at night.

They would talk, Elena decided. If Damon was willing to move the administrative and business divisions of Intercorp to Mystic Falls, and leave the others under Enzo, then that should settle everything. She would get a permanent position at the ER in Mystic Falls Hospital.

They would talk tonight, she said to herself. After she met Caroline, she would go to the supermarket for grocery shopping. She would make dinner for Damon tonight and they would talk.

She hurried back to the parking lot, used her key fob to unlock her car and slipped into the front seat. She left the car door ajar to allow in the slight breeze while she took out her phone. She hardly cooked but she could definitely find some simple recipes online.

The passenger-side door opened abruptly. Sarah Salvatore slid into the seat. She had a gun in her hand.

"Sarah!"

"Give me the phone," Sarah said.

Elena handed her the phone. Sarah tossed it out the window.

Elena stared, unable to believe this was happening to her. She swallowed. "What are you doing here?"

"Close the door."

"Sarah…"

"Close the door!"

Elena had no choice but turned to pull the car door closed.

"Drive," Sarah ordered.

"Where are we going?" Elena started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot.

"Dunham Lake."

x x x

"Someone has got her," Damon said.

He was standing in the parking lot at Mystic Falls Hospital. He had his phone crushed to his ear. He was holding Elena's busted phone in his other hand.

"What is going on, Damon?" Caroline demanded. "Who has got Elena? Where is she?"

"Elena was here at the hospital but she never got back to the Salvatore boarding house. Car is gone. I found her phone."

"Why would anyone grab Elena?" Caroline asked. "Because of money?"

"She wasn't kidnapped because of money." Damon looked at Elena's phone. "This is personal. This is revenge."

"What the hell is going on here?"

"I think Sarah is the one who grabbed her." Damon climbed into his car and fired up the engine. "I'm sure of it."

"But why?"

"A mix of revenge and panic and a lack of impulse control."

"Bad combination. Where are they headed?"

"I don't know but I don't think they have gone far away. I will drive around and see whether I can catch them."

He ended the call and concentrated on his driving. He had no idea where Sarah had taken Elena. A litany started up in his brain. It pounded through his veins. _I won't be too late. I can't be too late._

But his timing was off. He could feel it in his bones. He needed help from someone. He made another call.

Wes answered on the second ring. "Damon? What do you want now?"

Damon told him

x x x

"I know this has been a very difficult time for you," Elena said. She couldn't think of anything else to do except keep talking. "You have put in a lot of hard work in Salvatore Industries."

Sarah's smile was devoid of any real warmth. "You have no idea."

 _Don't get paranoid here,_ Elena told herself. _Stay calm. Sarah is a little upset. Perfectly natural._

She took a deep breath. "You know, Sarah, you should seriously sit down with Damon and talk about this whole thing. You and Damon are family."

"You have got it all wrong," Sarah said. "Damon doesn't treat me as family. Neither does my father."

"Why do you say that? You father loves you. And Damon sees you as family."

"My father doesn't love me. He never appreciated me. I finally realised that. No matter how hard I try, he will never think I'm good enough."

"Who helped you to see the truth? Wait, let me guess - Mason, right?"

"Mason found out that my father's plan to replace me."

"Mason probably lied."

"Why would he do that?"

"Because he needed your help, you twit. For a smart woman, you are about as dumb as a brick when it comes to men."

Sarah stared at her. "What are you talking about?"

"Think about it for half a second. It was Mason's idea to buy the share of Salvatore Industries, wasn't it?"

"Mason wants to help me," Sarah said quickly. "If we have managed to buy enough shares, then I will become the president of Salvatore Industries."

"Mason bought the shares under S&M trust but did you know who owns S&M? It is Mason! You really are dumb. Trust me, Mason lied to you from the start. He used you, to get his hands on the company. He won't give Salvatore Industries to you."

"What is it with men?" Sarah said, clearly bewildered. "You give them everything and they walk all over you. Stop the car."

Elena brought the car to a halt and slowly unfastened her seat belt.

"Now what?" she asked.

"Give me the keys."

Elena obeyed.

Sarah opened the passenger-side door and backed out of the seat, never taking the gun off Elena.

"Now you get out," she ordered. "Slowly."

Elena obeyed as she glanced around her surroundings. There was an eerie silence around the lake today. The place truly was deserted.

Sarah angled her chin towards the lake house in front. "Inside."

"Sarah, listen, you don't want to do this. This is crazy."

Sarah grabbed the door handle and hauled it open with one hand. "Go inside. Walk slowly and stay where I can see you. Understand?"

Elena moved inside the lake house. "Sarah, don't do this, please. Talk to Damon. I'm sure the two of you can figure out something."

"The plan had failed. I have never thought my father would ask Damon to take over Salvatore Industries. I tried a quick, surgical strike to get rid of Damon. I thought any investigation of a deadly car accident involving a drunk driver would be superficial at best."

Elena was aghast. "You tried to murder Damon?"

Sarah smiled grimly. "Unfortunately, Mason failed me on that occasion. I did not want to risk another attempt here in Mystic Falls during the takeover. There was too much media attention focused on Salvatore Industries. But who would have guessed my father would ask Damon to act as the interim president?"

"You manipulated Matt and Pete to help you," Elena said as she took a quick look around the house. She had to find a way to escape. 'You are the one who fired up the rumours."

"I can't let Damon take over Salvatore Industries. We were so closed. The press conference would destroy him. The board of directors would want him to step down and nobody would ever believe a man who seduced a sixteen year old and got her pregnant."

"But it didn't happen that way," Elena pointed out. "Vicky appeared and cleared Damon's name."

"He is a lucky bastard."

"Damon is trying to help Salvatore Industries," Elena explained. "He doesn't want the company to fall into Mason's hand."

"Mason won't lie to me." Sarah shook her head wildly. "He won't!"

"He only wants Salvatore Industries. He won't marry you after all!"

"I have lost everything!" Sarah's fingers tightened on the gun. "Damon Salvatore takes everything from me and he is going to suffer."

Elena took a few steps back and came up hard against the wine cupboard. She put out a hand to steady herself.

A shadow shifted in at the front door behind Sarah. Or maybe it was just her fevered imagination, Elena thought.

Keep her talking. Time was exactly what she needed. She had to buy some for herself. Sooner or later Damon would find her.

"You want to kill me because you think it is going to hurt Damon."

"It is obvious he is in love with you."

"You set out to get revenge."

"That's it in a nutshell."

That shadow shifted again. This time Sarah noticed. She started to turn around.

There wasn't going to be a better chance, Elena thought. She grabbed two bottles out of the rack and flung one of them directly at Sarah. Sarah turned back quickly, yelped in panic and managed to dodge the missile. The bottle shattered when it struck the floor, splashing dark red wine on Sarah's pants and shirt.

"Damn you," Sarah shrieked. "What have you done?"

Elena was already in motion. Clutching the remaining bottle, she fled for her life, racing to one of the rooms.

The gun roared. Elena heard shots crack in quick succession. Some sounded as if they had struck the wall.

"Down, Elena."

It was Damon.

Elena reacted instinctively to Damon's command, throwing herself on the floor

Shots boomed in the room. Elena heard a gun clatter on the floor.

"You damned son of a bitch," Sarah grated.

Heavy footsteps echoed in the house.

Elena looked up. The sheriff and a few officers had formed a ring around Sarah, shouting at her not to move, their weapons primed to fire if she did. Sarah had fallen to the ground and she had dropped her gun when she was shot by the sheriff.

"Give it up, Sarah," Damon said. "It is over."

"It should have been mine!" Sarah cried. "Mine!"

Elena stood up and watched Damon and Caroline rush towards her. She was trembling so violently that when Damon reached her, she fell into his arms.

"Damon," she whispered.

His arms tightened around her so violently that she could not say anything else for a long while.

The sirens were louder now. Elena heard the vehicles pull into the driveway and screech to a halt.

Damon glanced at Elena again. He started to speak. Then he noticed the blood leaking from her foot.

"You are bleeding."

"It is okay," she said quickly. "I stepped on some glass. Don't worry."

Damon scooped her up into his arms.

"I'm okay, really," she said.

He carried her out the door into the sunlight.

"We need a medic here," he said in firm voice.

Cops and medics were swarming across the driveway. Jenna and Logan emerged out of the controlled chaos. They headed toward Damon and Elena.

"Is she all right?" Jenna asked.

"I'm fine," Elena said. "It is just blood. Cut from glass, nothing serious."

Someone in a uniform raced toward them, medical kit in hand.

"What have we got here?" he said.

He looked at Damon, not Elena.

"It is not that bad, really," Elena said.

Damon ignored her.

"Broken glass," he said to the medic.

"Get her to the aid car," the medic said. "I will take a look."

The sheriff materialized out of the crowd.

"What is the situation inside?" Logan asked.

"Under control," Sheriff Forbes said. "Everything is under control now. How is Elena?"

"She is bleeding," Damon said as he moved around the sheriff and carried Elena to the aid car, where the medic waited.

"It is not that bad," Elena said. "Seriously."

Damon ignored her.


	22. Chapter 22

Elena heard the quiet purr of a car's engine and the crunch of its tires on the gravel at the same time headlights cut through the darkness of her bedroom.

It was almost midnight. Who would be dropping by at this hour? Elena thought. She pulled her phone off the charger and slid out of bed, her thumb hovering over the nine.

By the time she got to the window, the engine had stopped and she heard a car door slam. Not trying to be quiet, then. She peeked out through a crack in the curtains, careful not to disturb the fabric, ready to dial for help if she didn't recognize the driver.

She recognized him immediately. It was Damon, standing in at her driveway with his hands shoved in his pockets, staring at her door.

"What in the world?"

She gripped the window ledge and peered more closely at the glint. She punched in Damon's numbers and he answered on the first ring.

"What are you doing out there at this hour?" she asked.

"I want to speak to you."

"Now?"

"Yes."

"Okay, I will open the door."

"Elena…"

"Yes?"

"Why don't you come out instead?"

Elena hung up and tried to smooth down her hair. Damon sounded weird. What was going on? She ran downstairs quietly, making sure she wouldn't wake up Jenna and Logan. Then she flipped on the light and pulled open the door.

"Hi, what's going on?" she asked as she walked towards him.

"I don't know what to do, Elena."

"About what?"

"Us. I don't know what to do about us. I can't walk away from Salvatore Industries. I have obligations. I have dozens of people—and their families—depending on me for work. I have to travel. And I built Intercorp from nothing. I'm not walking away from it."

Elena swallowed hard and tried to brace herself. Damon was trying to figure out what to do about their relationship. She wanted Damon, there was no doubt about it. She loved him.

"But I can't ask you to walk away from your job at the Cedars-Sinai Medical Centre," he said, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "You have worked really hard to get to where you are at the moment. You have made Los Angeles your home. So I don't know what to do."

"I don't know what to say."

He gave her a small smile, rocking back on his heels. "I was hoping you would know what to do."

She desperately wished she did. "What is it you want?"

"You. I want you. I want you to need me. I want you to not be able to concentrate because you are thinking about me. I want you to reach for your phone because you thought of something you have to share with me. I want you to not even be able to breathe at the thought of never seeing me again, because that is how I feel about you, Elena. I want to be a necessity."

Tears welled up in her eyes. "I do need you, because I love you and you make me happy. I can live my life just fine on my own, but it will be so much better if I live it with you."

"I love you. And we can make this work. I will try to cut back on my traveling and delegate a little better, which I'm willing to do if it means more time at home with you. As long as you are waiting for me."

"Always." He kissed her until she could barely breathe, and then held her for a long moment.

"I'm happy to settle down in Mystic Falls," Elena said eventually. "I can always work at the ER here. It is still a challenging job."

"Are you sure you want to leave Los Angeles?"

"I'm happy as long as you are with me. I guess you have to spend more time here in Mystic Falls at this stage."

"Enzo can help me to run Intercorp while I manage Salvatore Industries here. I have a great team at Intercorp. But I still have to travel." His face grew serious and he took one of her hands in his. "Are you okay with it? You have to know I hate not being with you and I promise I will get back to you as soon as possible.

She tilted her head and smiled. "I know you will come back to me."

"And maybe if you aren't working at the ER, you could go on the business trip with me."

She laughed. "That sounds like fun."

"Yes, it will be fun, sweetie."

"But I want to keep my apartment in Los Angeles." This time, she was the one who turned serious. "It is the first place of my own."

"I know how much this home means to you, Elena."

"And I will keep it. Rent it out. But the house we live together here in Mystic Falls will mean even more to me."

"I want you to marry me. I want to have your ring on my finger so I can feel it when I'm away from home. I want to tell people, 'I'm going home to see my wife,' when I'm waiting to board my plane. And someday I will tell them, 'I'm going home to see my wife and kids.'"

She threw her arms around his neck and said "yes" over and over, punctuating each time with a kiss.

"How about we go inside before somebody calls the cops on us? It is quite late now."

"Do you want to spend the night here?" She giggled. "My bed isn't large enough for two people."

"I'm not picky. I'm easy like that."

Damon took her hand and led her into the house, where he kissed her long and slow. "The sooner we go to bed, the sooner I get the pleasure of waking up next to you. Or, you know, kind of under you, since we don't really fit side by side."

Laughing, Elena pulled him into the bedroom. "It is going to be fun, being your wife."

As he lowered her slowly to the bed, he kissed her and then said, "And I'm going to love being your husband."


	23. Epilogue

"Damon, are you asleep?"

"Uh-huh."

"Wake up."

"Uh-huh."

"Wake up. I want to talk to you."

Damon rolled onto his stomach, propped himself on his elbows and looked at her. They were having a picnic lunch on the park surrounding the Mystic Falls Town Hall. Damon and Elena were sharing one blanket. All were enjoying the drowsy sunshine of an early-spring day.

They had made a trip to Los Angeles to settle their affairs. Elena had resigned from her position but she had secured a job at Mystic Falls Hospital. Starting after Easter, she would be working as the ER physician at Mystic Falls Hospital. She had also rented out her apartment in LA. Most of the furniture had been given away. Only a few pieces had been shipped to Mystic Falls.

"What do you want to talk about?" he asked now, catching her around her bare ankle and massaging the sensitive spot with a decadent thumb.

The muscles of her leg twitched. "Stop, Damon, I have something to say."

"So do I. You have outrageously sexy ankles." His mouth curved into a smile. "And other sexy things as well, and I have a leech for you that won't quit." He caught her Achilles tendon between his teeth. 'Want to make love out here under the trees?"

His hand slid under her jean leg to squeeze her calf. She didn't draw her foot away, but Damon could see that something else was on her mind. He withdrew his hand. "What did you want to tell me?" he asked seriously. Sometimes his sensitivity to her moods was uncanny. That was only one of the reasons Elena loved him.

"We have been married for a month."

"I hadn't even thought of that," he said, sitting up.

"I have a present for you." She took an envelope out of the picnic basket and handed it to him. "I'm not sure you will like it."

He watched her for an endless minute and she recognized that look. She knew that look. She had seen how Damon dealt with his business. Decisive and in control. But this was different. She really was afraid he wouldn't like her gift.

Damon slowly raised the flap of the envelope. There was a single sheet of letter-sized paper inside. He withdrew the paper and read the content.

"I know it may be too quick for you," she said softly and nervously. "You may not be ready. But…" She paused and took a deep breath. "I'm pregnant."

Her heart stopped when his head jerked up to look at her. But then she saw his eyes and they were glassy with emotion.

"You are pregnant?"

She nodded.

Damon laughed. "Oh, God!" He clasped her hand tightly. "I'm going to be a father!"

He moved across the blanket and folded his hands around her head, linking his fingers in the back. He drew her mouth beneath his and their tongues exchanged intimacies.

"I was going to wait until we went out to dinner tonight, but…"He took a box from his jacket pocket and handed it to her.

"Oh, Damon!" she exclaimed, wiping tears of love from her eyes. "You brought me a present!"

"How could I forget we have been married for a month?"

She tossed away the wrapping paper and found a jeweller's box, this one long, slender and flat. Lying golden and beautiful on a white satin lining was a smooth oval locket on a long chain.

Reverently, Elena lifted it out and sprung the delicate hinge open. In one of the tiny frames was a reduced picture of her and Damon taken by his brother at their wedding. They were smiling radiantly, their heads close, their happiness with each other enviable. In the other frame was a picture of them on the beach in Hawaii during their honeymoon.

Elena couldn't speak for the tentacles of emotion that squeezed her throat.

"It is inscribed," Damon said quietly. On the back was engraved, _My wife, my love. Your Damon._

Taking the locket from her shaking fingers, he slipped it over her head and watched it nestle between her breasts.

Elenalifted the locket to her lips and kissed it, then pressed it back onto the setting it seemed made for. "I love you so much it hurts sometimes."

This time, when their mouths met, their bodies did as well. They reclined together on the blanket. His hand slipped under her cotton sweater and found her braless breasts full and warm and vibrant with love. He pushed her sweater up and gazed at the patterns of sunlight and shadow that danced across them. He lowered his head and let his lips drift over them as lightly and lazily as the sunbeams.

"Damon, we can't."

"Why not?"

"We are in the park." Her voice had lost some of its impetus as a result of the agile tongue that circled her nipples.

"Couldn't care less."

Elena laughed. Her mouth rubbed invitingly against his. "Do you want a boy or a girl?"

"I don't really care as long as the baby is healthy." His grin was the rakish, overconfident one that she adored. "If we have a girl this time, then I will give you baby boy next time. But if we have a boy this time, then I will give you a baby girl next time."

He worked his hand between them and unzipped first her jeans, then his. Willingly she let him adjust their clothing. Heartbeats later she felt his virility, hard and velvety warm, moving against her, seeking. "Haven't I always told you that I can't get my hands off you? We will have plenty of opportunities to make babies."

Elena laughed out loud.

"Have I told you that I love you?" Damon said as he kissed her nose.

She had to admit that he had, since he found her warm and moist and swollen with desire for his loving.

"Elena. My dearest, dearest love. You are all I ever needed."

And he always knew the right words to say.

 _THE END_


End file.
